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ROBIN 


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ROBIN. 


CHAPTER I. 

The fierce sun of August had all day long held 
Venice in its close embrace ; but now that five o^clock 
had struck, the piazza, which during the mid-day heat 
had been deserted, began to show signs of life again. 

Between the columns,’’ spot of evil omen, two 
Englishmen were standing bidding each other good- 
bye. One — on his way to Padua — was leaving by the 
evening train ; the other — after the fashion of birds 
who while on the wing stay their flight — ^was stopping 
at Venice. 

That morning neither had ever seen or spoken to 
the other, but the casual mention of Dr. North’s name 
had set Mr. Veriker thinking, and ridding himself of 
his daughter by sending her to the Lido, he had hur- 
ried off to the Hotel Luna, and asked the favor of an 
interview with the great London physician. 

His request was granted, the two had since spent 
the remainder of the day together, and now they were 
parting like old friends. 

“ I cannot thank you half enough for the kindness 
you have done me,” Mr. Veriker was saying. 



ROBIN. 


“ But no, don’t speak of it in that way. I only wish 
I had had something more pleasant to say to you. Un- 
happily,” and oh, what popularity that sigh and sympa 
thetic shake of the head had gained him ! ‘‘ it is the 
misfortune of doctors to give people unpalatable things 
to swallow.” 

“ Truths are for the most part apt to be unpalatable.” 

‘‘ Perhaps so ; and yet to my mind it is always best 
to know the truth. The thing does not happen one 
whit the sooner because some one has said that some 
day it must come to pass. Besides,” laying his hand 
encouragingly on his companion’s shoulder, “ we are 
not infallible ; doctors differ.” 

“ And patients die.” 

‘‘ Ah ! that end comes to all of us ; to me as well as 
to you. Many whom I have warned will be taking my 
physic long after I am under ground. So remember ; 
live carefully, avoid excitement, and we shall meet in 
London.” 

He walked away. Mr. Veriker watched him out of 
sight ; then turning round, he mechanically bent his 
steps towards the starting-place of those “ little black 
steam-tugs,” which, to the great scandal of Mr. Rus- 
kin, convey the people of Venice to the Lido. 

“ You may die any day.” The words, without any 
especial meaning for him, kept repeating themselves in 
Mr. Veriker’s ears. ‘‘ Die any day ” — die — lie dead, 
stretched motionless and mute, while all the busy world 
went on around. 

The host of speculations which followed this thought 
arrested Mr. Veriker’s steps. Unconsciously he stopped 
short, leaned his elbows on a bit of rail which ran 
near, and threaded the mazes of a life of fifty years, 
while gazing down into the water which flowed below : 
seeing a boy — fruit of an ill-assorted marriage — neg- 
lected, uncared for, with a father grown old and selfish, 
and a mother too young and thoughtless to take 
trouble in shaping a nature which only needed love to 
guide its course aright; seeing a youth, headstrong, 
impatient, refusing all control from those who he knew 


ROBIN, 


3 


had prophesied that their advice would be thrown 
away ; seeing a man after thirty years of life — spent no 
matter how — trying to start afresh, for the reason that 
on him was fixed the faith and trust of one whose love 
could see no failure. 

Alas ! how many stumbles he had made which that 
dear heart had shut her eyes to — and his own, growing 
dim, obscured the rest of the sad picture, for all too 
soon Death had claimed her for his own, and the hus- 
band, and the child that she had borne him, had had 
to learn to live without her. — Yes ; she had died. 

Surely, in all the years that had passed since then, 
never had Mr. Veriker seen his wife so bodily — the 
magic power of memory brought before him the room, 
its furniture, with all those dread accessories by which 
death is made more terrible. 

‘‘ Good God ! ’’ standing erect, he made a gasp for 
breath, for in that momentary vision the lighted can- 
dles, the heavy perfumed flowers, the leaden weight of 
that o’erspreading sheet, had seemed to stifle him, and 
sighing audibly he took off his hat so that the little 
seaward-wafted breeze might fan him more readily ; 
then knitting himself together by a movement which 
seemed to assert the power of motion, he walked 
towards the steamboat with a quick step as if to out- 
stride the shadow which stalked behind him. 

That reverie of his had eaten into more time than 
he had an idea of — it had made a good hole in an 
hour — and seven o’clock struck as he passed through 
the bathing establishment on to the balcony in search 
of his daughter. 

On an evening such as this, one was sure to find a 
crowd assembled here ; and Mr. Veriker’s eyes ran 
over the heads of those seated at the numerous little 
tables, to skirt the railing, over and against which a 
line of people stood lounging. 

‘‘ Ah ! ” His face told that he had found what he 
sought, that his eyes were resting upon those they had 
been looking for. Mr. Veriker was a singularly hand- 
some man, and the pause he had made had attracted 


4 


ROBIN. 


the' notice of a party of diners, who smiled significantly 
as they saw him suddenly walk straight across to an 
opposite point, and by a rather brusque movement 
place himself between a young man and a girl, who 
were thus separated. 

And what may you two people be talking about 
together, eh } ’’ 

His eyes, which had rapidly scanned both faces, 
while his elbows widened the distance between them, 
now plunged themselves into the sea. 

“ Why, papa, it^s you. I was just going to fire up at 
the rude monster,^’ and she snuggled herself up against 
him, “ who had pushed himself in between us two ; 
and look at Jack’s face — isn’t it red ? that will tell you 
what he intended to do.” 

‘‘ I expected to find you wondering what had become 
of me.” 

Mr. Veriker’s voice sounded as unusually stern as 
his manner was unusually odd. But his daughter, 
accustomed only to the perfect good-fellowship which 
reigned between them, set this down to the probable 
worry of the business engagement for which her father 
had left her. 

“ I was wondering,” she said. “ I came out of the 
water very early indeed, and I could not think what 
had become of you.” 

I had no idea myself that I should be kept until 
seven o’clock.” 

“ Seven o’clock ! Was that seven that struck ? 
Why, I thought it was five — didn’t you ? did you think 
it was seven, Jack ” 

“ Not until I heard the clock, I didn’t.” 

“ Just fancy that ! We’re a nice pair together, 
aren’t we ? Papa, what do you think ? ” 

“ Think, my dear ’I That I wish you wouldn’t call 
our friend here Jack. You know, you are growing up 
— you’re getting quite a woman now, and there are 
some things that’ll have to be left off : that are not 
quite in keeping — are they ? ” and though he did not 


ROBIN. 


$ 

raise his eyes, his head slightly turned towards the 
young man in question. 

“ Really, I have never given the matter any consid- 
eration ’’ — the answer came a little stiffly. ‘‘ I don’t 
quite remember how it happened, but it would seem as 
strange for her now not to call me Jack, as if I didn’t 
call her Robin.” 

There was a few minutes pause, broken at length by 
the anxious inquiry of : 

‘‘ Don’t you feel well, papa ? ” 

‘‘ Well^ my dear ! Certainly I feel well — what 
should make you ask such a question ? ” 

Mr. Veriker no longer lounged, but drew himself up 
into an erect position. 

“ Oh, I know ! You want your dinner. I'm starv- 
ing, and so is Ja ” She drew back at the end of 

the name, made a dumb show of swallowing it down, 
and then, with a look of mimic pleading to her father, 
said : “You really must let me off, papa; 1 can’t call 
him Mr. Dorian, not while he looks as he does now.” 

“ I don’t see anything at all particular in his look 
now.” 

“ Don’t you ? but I fancy there is though, and about 
my look too, by the way people have been staring at 
us.” 

“ Staring at you if you like,” put in Jack by way of 
mending matters. 

“ At me ! well, I don’t see there is more to look at 
in me than in you. This dress has got a little bit 
skimpy, perhaps,” and by the movement she made she 
tried to lengthen it down ; and the water hasn’t im- 
proved the color of my hat, but the shape is all right,” 
and having taken it off, she surveyed it critically, “ per- 
fectly,” placing it on again. “ So there.” 

The eyes of both men turned upon her. Jack Dorian 
smiled ; Mr. Veriker’s face twitched. 

“ Why do you go about dressed like this, Robin ? ” 
he said. “You ought to have some new clothes.” 

“ But I shall be delighted to have some new clothes, 
if you can find any money to pay for them ; and if 


b 


ROBIN. 


there is anything to spare, perhaps you’ll be generous 
to Jack, and then I may find it possible to call him Mr. 
DorianB 

Jack rubbed his hand over his coat, and fell to ex- 
amining it about the elbows. 

‘‘ I can’t think how it is the confounded things wear 
out as they do. I’m sure they used to last much longer,” 
he said. “ Upon my life, though, I didn’t know I was 
quite so seedy-looking as I am.” 

“ My dear fellow, we’re all in about the same condi- 
tion,” and Mr. Veriker cast a rueful eye upon his own 
garments. 

And what if we are ? ” and Robin drew herself up. 
“ We’re by long odds the best looking people here. 
As for you, daddy, you’re the handsomest man in all 
the world, everybody knows that — and this afternoon 
some one told me,” and she threw a mischievous 
look towards Jack, that there was not another girl 
in the place half as good-looking as I am ; so it’s hard 
if we two can’t manage to pass off a bad third between 
us,” 

Jack’s face had got rather red, but already — pretend- 
ing to descry in the distance her most devoted waiter — 
Robin was off, and the two were left together alone. 
Mr. Veriker gave a shake of his head. 

“ You shouldn’t put such thoughts into her head,” 
he said ; girls find out things of that sort far too 
soon.^ 

‘‘ But you know that I would not say a word to her 
that I thought you would not approve of. You may 
trust me for that.” 

“ My dear fellow, I have trusted you already.” 

“ And I have in no way abused your trust.” 

“No, I don’t believe you have. God grant that I 
have not abused my own ; but it’s a difficult task for an 
idle man like me to have the entire guidance of a 
young girl like Robin. I did not feel it when she was 
a child ; but now — when — oh, the thing won’t bear a 
thought ! Come along,” hurrying off, “ let’s look after 
our dinner; perhaps that will drive the blues awaj 


ROBIN, 


7 


Somehow IVe got a fit of them on me to-day that I 
can’t get rid of.” 

But though the dinner was a marvel in the art of 
discreet ordering, Mr. Veriker, impatient to be seated, 
had no appetite to partake of it. Jack with forethought, 
for which a look from Robin blessed him, feigned it 
impossible to get on unless they had a little better 
wine ; but the wine there, Mx, Veriker drank but a 
small share of it; 

^‘No,” he said, ^‘it’s only that the sun has been hot, 
and that heat tries me now. I thought I should be 
all right this evening when I got out here, but some- 
how I can’t rise to the occasion.” 

Don’t let us stop here any longer ; let’s go back 
and sit in the piazza. The band will be playing and 
we could have some ices.” 

‘‘ That doesn’t sound half bad, does it, Robin ? 

It is the very thing I was wishing for.” 

All that her father desired, and lately much that 
Jack Dorian had wanted to do, was safe to be the 
very thing Robin was wishing for. Hers was that 
woman-nature whose pleasure comes from those she 
loves being pleased. 

Accustomed by the habits of their . wandering life to 
make many friends, not one among them had ever 
been what Jack Dorian was to her: Their acquaint- 
ance had commenced at Nice some three winters 
before, when Robin, looked on as a child by the men 
who visited her father, had been singled out by Jack to 
tease, to pet, to romp with. Small for her age, she 
was then fourteen ; she had so grown since, that now 
at seventeen she was quite a woman ; and some weeks 
before, with thoughts of this kind floating in her mind, 
Robin had taken from beneath her chin a flower which 
Jack had given her to fasten there, and holding it in 
her hand, had fixed her eyes on it, bringing it nearer 
and nearer to her lips, until for an instant it lay press- 
ed against them, then, with a sudden glow which sent 
the color mounting up from cheek to brow, she thr^w 


8 


ROBIN. 


it out of the open window, and, turning, quickly ran 
away, still blushing at she knew not what. 

The memory of this little action gave her manner 
when next they met a half-shy consciousness, with just 
that suspicion of embarrassment a lover is so proud to 
seize upon. Not that Jack had any thought of being 
Robin’s lover — at least the notion had not come to him 
until the moment when her coy glance sent a sudden 
thrill which set his heart beating, and shot from out 
his eyes a fire which Robin’s lids drooped under. 

Since that day, children playing with edged tools 
the two had been ; Robin by turns silent, elated, shy, 
defiant ; Jack — it is difficult to analyze what Jack felt ; 
he was twenty-five, and imagined that he had a good 
experience in the tender passion. What then was this 
sudden feeling that he had for Robin 1 not love — that 
is if he had ever known love before ; not friendship — 
he could not deceive himself so far as that. Was it 
brotherly affection, sympathy, compassion perhaps ? 
Yes, all of these, and with them all a something so far 
beyond, that it outstripped the rest and left him doubt- 
ful as before. 


CHAPTER II. 

Midnight had struck, and Mr. Veriker, who at ten 
o’clock had declared himself too tired to remain out 
any longer, was still up and abroad. 

At the door of the hotel — to Robin’s surprise — 
instead of going in with her, he proposed taking a turn 
in Jack Dorian’s company. He would ‘‘ have a cigar,” 
he said — he had not wanted one before, he had been 
fidgeting to get home ; now that he was there, he felt 
it was useless going to bed — he should not sleep. 
Perhaps a smoke might help him. 

“ He isn’t himself, thought Jack, as they strolled 
through the Merceria in the direction of the Rialto ; 
“ something has gone wrong with him ; and jumping 


ROBIN. 


9 


at the conclusion that this something must be money, 
he run over his resources with a view of rendering any 
help that was in his power. It did not strike him that 
this generosity towards a man who had no claim upon 
him was very foreign to his nature ; the desire to assist 
Mr. Veriker was so spontaneous that it seemed to take 
the shape of a necessity, and Jack was all anxiety to 
learn the extent of the demand. 

Knowing by experience how difficult it is to make 
the first plunge, he was prepared for some preamble ; 
and, though he did not quite see how the bush was to 
be beaten round by entering upon a dissertation upon 
Venice, its past glory and its present decay, he did his 
part of listener with a manly grace. But when an 
hour had gone, the whole time of which had been spent 
in walking, and they were back again on the Riva de 
Schiavoni, with the subject no nearer than it had 
seemed at starting, Jack^s patience began to give way. 
What did it mean ? Had he made a mistake 1 Did Mr. 
Veriker tell nothing because he had nothing to tell ? 
If so they had mooned about quite as long as, that 
night. Jack had a mind for; he was tired, sleepy, 
would light up one more cigar, to last him as far as the 
hotel, and then drop a quiet hint that it was time they 
began to move homewards. 

“ I thought you’d want to stop here ” — they were 
crossing the Ponte della Paglia. “ I can never go by 
without having a look at that place.” 

Mr. Veriker’s eyes were ,4*.irned towards the Bridge 
of Sighs. 

‘‘ To think of those,” he said, ‘‘who have crossed 
over there with the song of death sounding in their 
ears.” 

“ Ah ! ” and Jack leaned over to watch the descent 
of his fusee as it dropped into the dark water below, 
“ that’s a music we none of us care much for.” 

“ And yet we have to listen, whether we like or 
not.” 

“ When our time comes I suppose we have.” 


lO 


ROBIN, 


‘‘ And who knows how soon that may be ? Death has 
so many doors to let out life.’’ 

“ True : but he’s not in any immediate hurry to open 
yours or mine just yet, I hope.” 

“ Oh ! I don’t know. If I was alone in the world, 
I should not much care. Life has not so many charms 
left for me.” 

He had taken up his place by Jack’s side, and was 
resting his arms on the stone-work. 

The sting of death in my case is having to leave a 
girl fatherless, friendless, penniless, as Robin will be.” 

“ Yes, that’s a serious consideration.” 

Jack’s face became thoughtful. Robin alone, 
unprotected ! His heart grew big towards her. 

“ But long before anything of that sort is likely 
to happen, ” and his tone sounded prophetically confi- 
dent, ‘‘ she is certain to have some one to fill your 
place,” 

“ Fill my place ! how fill my place ? ” 

Jack smiled. Already he foresaw the rivalry that 
was likely to exist between Robin’s husband and her 
father. 

“ Why, you expect her to marry, don’t you ? — she’ll 
have a husband ! ” 

Nothing more unlikely,” said Mr. Veriker sharply. 

‘‘ Whom does she see, in the life we lead, that 1 
should care for her to marry ? No, no ; the husband I 
want for Robin is a simple honest fellow, who would 
work to maintain his wife ; not such a one as myself, 
living God knows how.” 

Without a syllable on which he could lay hold being 
spoken. Jack felt an arrow had been aimed at him. 

“ It is to be hoped you will find your daughter’s 
taste runs with your own,” he said cynically. 

‘‘No, I don’t expect that. Robin is too much her 
mother’s child to take prudence for a guide where her 
heart is concerned. And that is why I have felt a 
little disturbed that you and she have been so much 
together of late. Not on your account. You have 
seen too much of life to give a second thought to a girl 


ROBUST, 


II 


like Robin, and I don^t harbor a suspicion that you 
would trifle in any way with her. But — well, there’s a 
woman’s heart beating inside the child, full of love to 
be poured out like water at the touch of the one who 
places his finger on the right spring, and — it may be 
only my fancy — but I have thought her a little altered 
of late, preoccupied, variable, silent. I dare say it’s 
imagination, but it has nevertheless managed to give me 
a considerable amount of worry.” 

The dark cloud which had gathered on Jack’s face 
rolled away while listening to that birth of love be- 
gotten of himself, as he knew it to be. 

“ Don’t be anxious because you think I do not care 
for Robin,” he began, and the softened tone of his 
voice was but another whip to goad on Mr. Veriker’s 
fears. I ” 

‘‘ Should be fifty thousand times more anxious if I 
thought you did,” interrupted Mr. Veriker quickly. 
“ No, my dear fellow, dont misunderstand me ; the 
confidence I place in you is my sheet-anchor ; I know 
you well enough to be quite certain that, seeing what 
Robin’s position is — without any one to guide her, and 
nobody to look after her but a scapegrace of a father, 
who leaves her entirely to her own devices — you would 
be the last to take advantage of my supineness or her 
situation.” 

‘‘ I don’t know that taking an advantage ever occur- 
red to me,” said Jack stiflly. 

Certainly it never did, and it never would to an 
honorable man ; and in spite of what the straitlaced 
may find to say against us, we haven’t quite forgotten 
the meaning of that word, at all events in our dealings 
one with the other, eh ? ” 

Jack did not answer, but inwardly he winced under 
words which jarred on his inmost sensibilities, and set 
his pride in array. He ranked with Veriker ! a man 
whose weak nature and shifty morality he despised : 
the sting was indeed bitter. True, for the last twelve 
months or so, it had happened that they had been 
greatly thrown together ; but Jack considered the space 


12 


ROBIN. 


between them in no way narrowed by the inter- 
course. 

“ What am I to understand ? ” he said. “ Is it that 
you wish me to go away from here ? — all thought of 
love for Robin had fled before the bare suspicion 
that any offer on his part was not an immense conde- 
scension, one he had intended to hamper with restric- 
tions and conditions such as became the surroundings 
he had been brought up in, rather than those by which 
he was now encircled. 

Away ! no, certainly not. What I meant was not 
to be, well — quite so much with her as you are.’^ 

“Who is to be with her, then?’’ and Jack put the 
question harshly. “ Do you wish her to run the place 
over by herself ? — it was because of the bathing and 
the boating here together that you pressed me to 
come.” 

“ Yes, yes 1 I knov/,” and Mr. Veriker gave a de- 
spondent shake of the head ; “ it’s my own fault, as 
everything that has gone wrong in my life has been. 
Jack, I wonder sometimes you don’t take warning by 
me. I wish to God you would — I should like to think 
I’d done somebody some good before I — die.” 

The word was forced out by an effort but the effort 
was lost upon Jack. 

“ Oh, no doubt you’ll do your daughter a good 
turn,” he said, “ if you succeed in finding this model 
son-in-law for yourself.” 

“ Ah, yes ! now your back’s up because of the way 
I took what you said about Robin.’' (Jack was in the 
habit of giving his friends an occasional taste of a not 
over easy temper.) “ But you don’t know all the reas- 
ons I have for speaking as I did — you don’t know 
that it’s on the cards (for the little we have goes when 
I’m gone) that any moment — without word or warning 
she may be left destitute.” 

“ How ? ” and Jack turned with a sceptical look : but 
something he saw arrested his futher speech. 

Mr. Veriker, overcome by the agitation of giving 
vent to the secret which all that day had hung on him 


ROBIN. 


3 


like a log, had turned deathly white with a pallor visi- 
ble in the moonlight; his features were drawn; his 
lips, rigid and parted, seemed striving to keep back 
the groans which the agony he was suffering would 
have made a relief. 

“ You're ill — faint ! " exclaimed Jack. 

By a gesture of the hand, which was clutched over 
his heart, Mr. Veriker indicated that the sudden spasm 
of unendurable pain was already abating. 

“Better now," he gasped in answer to Jack's anx- 
ious scrutiny — “ it will pass in a minute ; " and the 
tension of his limbs giving way, he dropped his head 
upon his arms, and let his face rest on them. 

“Poor fellow! "thought Jack, “there's something 
in this ; he is really ill ; " and a moment after, when 
Mr. Veriker recovered and looked up, he was met by 
an expression of earnest sympathy. 

“ I frightened you," he said, with a poor attempt at 
smiling. 

“ I wasn't prepared to see you like this," Jack an- 
swered ; “ have you ever been taken so before ? " 

“ Several times — not always so severe, but on and 
off very bad. No going to Monte Carlo this winter. 
Jack. Couldn't stand the tables ; the excitement would 
kill me. I do pretty well while things go on smoothly; 
but get anxious, and it's all up with me. Any day 1 
might drop down and “ give in my chips," as the Yan- 
kees say. I mean it for Jack looked incredulous. 
“Though I didn't tell you so, I went to see North this 
morning, and asked him to speak out, to tell me the 
truth — because of Robin, you know ; and though, as he 
said, I might hang on for years, he advised me, if I had 
any affairs to settle, to put them in order." 

“ Well, I think he was wise there ; and you'll do so, 
won't you ? It will save you anxiety, besides being the 
right thing to do for your daughter." 

Mr. Veriker sighed. 

“ Poor child," he said, “ it's late in the day to try 
and begin to set the wrong I have done her, right. I 
haven't a penny to leave her ; I haven't a friend to 


14 


ROBIN, 


trust her to. Oh ! I see it all now ; my cursed sel- 
fishness kept her with me, when I ought to have given 
her up to those who at least could have provided her 
with food to eat, and a roof to shelter her. But no ; I 
wouldn’t part with her, and now I dare say they’d 
see her starve before they’d hold out a finger to help 
her.” 

Have you tried them ? ” 

No ; it’s been on my mind to write for the last 
month and more, but I can’t swallow down my pride ; 
it seems to stick in my gizzard more and more.” 

Are they relations of yours ? ” 

‘‘After a fashion they are. It’s the husband of 
Robin’s mother’s sister. I like to make the connec- 
tion as roundabout as I can — it puts the fellow further 
from me. He’s a brute that turns everything into 
money that he touches.” 

“ Ah ! ” sighed Jack, “ I wish he would rub shoulders 
with me, then.” 

“ It wouldn’t matter — ^whatever came of it would 
stick to him. Soon after my wife died, they offered to 
take Robin ; but I wouldn’t let her go, and they took 
it as a mortal offence, since then we haven’t troubled 
each other much.” 

“ But if they knew, don’t you think they’d take her 
now ? ” 

“ Do you think she’d leave me ? ” 

“ Oh, they could hardly expect that ; but in case of 
anything happening to you, people could hardly see 
their sister’s child cast on the world a beggar, without 
coming forward to assist her in some way.” 

“ Oh I don’t know — besides, the sister herself is dead 
now, so the claim is less than ever.” 

“ Still you seem to have had some idea of writing 
to ask.” 

“ Simply because I don’t know of any other thing 
to do ; and when I’m driven into a corner by the 
thought of that girl with her looks, and her spirit, left 
alone in the world, without a living soul to turn to. Jack 
I could pray to God to see her dead rather than leave 


ROBIN. 


15 


her to all she may be exposed to. They might 
find her a situation — something to do, mightn^t they ? 

Jack made no reply. 

She can chatter away in French and Italian, you 
know ; and she has picked up enough music — the Lord 
only knows how — to play on the piano, and she^s got a 
voice like a nightingale. Something might be made of 
all that, one would think, eh ? what should you say ? ’’ 

Jack shook his head impatiently. 

“ I haven’t an idea,” he said. What I’m wondering 
at is that you, knowing all this, should have stopped 
what you fancied I might be going to say as you did. 
What made you do it, eh ? ” 

‘‘ About you having a liking for her, do you mean ? ” 
Jack nodded assent. 

Mr. Veriker seemed about to answer, hesitated, cast 
a furtive look at Jack, and then, apparently overcome 
by a resolution which mastered him, he said firmly : 

Well, I’ll tell you ; you’re too much like myself — 
you don’t like that, do you ? ” for Jack had drawn him- 
self up and stood his six feet erect. “I understand. 
There was a time when I shouldn’t have liked it. 
When I was your age, there iiien then whom I 

said I could never be like ; but gradually I slid down to 
their level, as you’ll do to mine. Mine ! far lower 
than mine, for as you have the making of a better man 
in you than ever I had in me, so, if nothing stops you, 
you’ll fall to a depth I should never have touched ; and 
that’s why I don’t want the child to care for you, as 
something makes me half afraid she has already begun 
to do. It isn’t that I don’t like you. Jack, If it wasn’t 
for Robin, I’d rather have you about with us than any 
fellow I know, but ” 

There’s no need to say any more,” said Jack cold- 
ly you’ve given me quite reasons enough.” 

“And I’ve offended you by them. That’s what I 
feared I should do if I spoke the truth.” 

“ No, I am not at all offended, if it is any satisfaction 
to you. I am very much obliged. You have shown 


i6 


ROBm. 


me what it is always good for us to know — how we are 
regarded by other people/’ 

Did he mean what he said ? was he angry or not ? 
Sometimes with Jack it was very difficult to decide, 
and Mr. Veriker was still trying to discover, when 
Jack added : 

‘‘ And to show how much obliged I am to you I shall 
try to hit some plan so as to leave Venice as soon as 
possible.” 

What — leave here altogether ” 

Isn’t that the best thing I can do ? ” 

Mr. Veriker was silent. 

I suppose it is,” he said at length. “ I don’t know 
though, how Robin and I shall get on without you — 
we’ve got so used to being all together, it seems hard 
to part. But there, perhaps it’s best — I don’t know.” 

“By far the best,” said Jack resolutely. “I feel 
now that I ought to have gone away long ago. I had 
no right to stay on when 1 knew I had nothing to of- 
fer Robin. If I had, I should ask her to share it with 
me.” 

“Thank you. Jack,” said Mr. Veriker more hearti- 
ly ; “ it’s kind of you to say that, and I wish I could 
show you that I feel it so.” 

“ Write that letter, then, about Robin to those peo- 
ple you spoke of.” 

“ You advise it, do you ? ” 

“ In your place I would do it without a day’s de- 
lay.” 

“ Come along, then ; I’ll go back home and write it 
to-night. If a thing’s to be done, they say there’s no 
time like the present. A hundred to one if I leave it 
hanging over me until to-morrow, I shall never do it at 
all.” 


CHAPTER III. 

Jack walked with Mr. Veriker to the door of his 
hotel, bade him good-night, made him renew his 


ROBIN, 


17 


promise, and then left him, not to fnlfil the intention he 
iiad announced of going straight off to bed, but to 
retrace his steps to the spot he had just left, as being 
the fittest place for undisturbed reflection. 

He wanted to take commune with himself, to review 
his past, and reflect on his present situation — a by no 
means pleasant task, for Jack was a stern master, not 
mor^ lenient to himself than he was to others. 

There was nothing uncommon about this story. It 
was the oft-told tale of a struggle between newly 
fledged independence and overstrained authority. As 
long as Jack was bound to obey, his uncle, Mr. Chan- 
dos, had not pushed him to extremities ; but the mo- 
ment it came upon him that his nephew was free, 
impreceptibly the reins tightened, and this notwith- 
standing the restiveness Jack showed each time the 
curb was felt by him. 

Uncle and nephew had inherited the same disposi- 
tion — each desired his own way, and had a rooted dis- 
like to be thwarted or interfered with. Who was now 
to give in ? not Jack, he had always given in ; not Mr. 
Chandos, he had never given in. By turns over- 
blamed, over-praised, thwarted, made much of. Jack’s 
bringing-up had left a great deal to be desired. His 
father was dead, had died when Jack was a child; 
his mother had married again, and had gone to India 
to be engrossed by fresh interests and new surround- 
ings. Jack, left at school, was understood to be 
adopted by his uncle, who had recently inherited an 
estate which obliged him to assume the name of Chan- 
dos. 

At the time he became possessed of this propety, 
Mr. Chandos was passed fifty, and a bachelor. He had 
never married, because, had he done so, he must have 
deprived himself of luxuries which, far more than a 
wife, he found essential to his comfort. 

Now that he was master of a good income, and 
owner of a handsome estate, he regretted his former 
wisdom ; it was not that he wanted a wife, but he 
wanted an heir, one born of his own body so that he 
2 


l8 


ROBIN. 


might feel that even when he was dead, a part of him- 
self still enjoyed what he had left behind. 

To a mind so constituted, Jack^s presence could 
never be entirely welcome, and in token of it the boy 
was kept at school ; and when the holiday time came 
round, and he returned home, it was generally to find 
the Manor shut up, his uncle away, and he expected to 
spend his vacation with the Temples at the Rector/, 

Under the circumstances, was it possible that much 
affection should exist between them ? Aunt Temple — 
the rector’s wife, in reality a cousin of the Dorians — 
was always holding up Mr. Chandos as a bogie to Jack, 
and to her own children. 

Frightened to death of him herself she seemed to 
desire that others should be inspired with a similar 
awe ; and not being gifted with the spirit of reticence, 
when out of humor she freely commented on her cou- 
sin’s obstinacy and selfishness, and openly laugh at an 
old fellow like that being married for love. 

For, with the strange craving most of us have to 
possess that which is beyond our reach, Mr. Chandos 
desired to find favor with some young girl who would 
bestow her heart on him ; and it was after this chi- 
merical idea he sought, and, though over fifteen years 
had passed, he was still seeking. 

In the meantime, though he never failed to remind 
Jack that it was not probable he would ever have more 
than the few thousands his father had left him, and the 
little which he, his uncle, might choose to add to it, he 
interferred with every j^lan the boy formed. 

What! what to be a soldier! to.be sent off no one 
could say where, to die of fever or to be killed in bat- 
tle ! Pray, in case of anything happening to him, who 
was to inherit Chandos Manor ? — the idea was absurd. 
Jack would like to be an engineer. The possible futnre 
owner of Chandos Manor working at the construction 
of railways or making steam engines ! — the bare notion 
was degrading. 

Mr. Chandos had provided for Jack during his stay 
at Eton, he now desired that he would go to Oxford^ 


KOJ3IN. 


19 


enter himself at a college where he could work, and so 
be ready — should it be needed — with knowledge to be 
turned to account. 

With a very ill grace, to Oxford Jack went; soon 
was mixed up with a very fast set; spent more money 
than he had any right to spend ; had his debts paid ; 
promised amendment ; broke his word ; got into a 
serious scrape, was rusticated ; and then, threatened 
by his uncle, grew obstinate, rebellious, defiant, refused 
to acknowledge that he was under any authority to him, 
and ended by drawing out the money which had been 
invested for him, and which being of age, he could 
claim as his own, sending his uncle a check for the 
sum he had paid for his debts at Oxford ; and with a 
not unprovoked letter to Mr. Chandos by way of 
farewell. Jack bade adieu to England, and started for 
Paris, detemined to enjoy abroad the spending of some 
portion of those thousands which still remained to his 
credit. 

We all know how endless in the eyes of youth seems 
the first large sum of money it has command of. It 
appeared to Jack that such a sum would last — well, if 
not for ever, far longer than he should want to be 
knocking idly about. Besides, it was not likely that 
his uncle would hold out now, when he had given in so 
often ; for of late years there had always been a tug of 
war ending in a compromise between the two. 

Everybody said Mr. Chandos would never marry, 
and if he did not. Jack must have the place if he did 
not have the m^oney ; and then the people about were 
all on his side. The rector was certain to say a good 
word for him, and as for Aunt Temple, she said in her 
letter that she’d never let his uncle have any peace 
until he sent and had Jack back among them. 

Mistaken friends, who, by their ill-judged zeal, only 
made an obstinate man more resolute than before ; he 
was more furious against Jack than ever when he 
found how many advocates he had to plead his cause. 

Unfortunately the London season was over, and 
nearer, in his own neighborhood, none of the ladies on 


20 


ROBIN. 


promotion met his taste. So his man was ordered to 
pack his things without delay that he might go to Har- 
rogate, Scarborough ; search the marriage markets of 
the United Kingdom over but he would return with a 
bride, and have an heir who should make his insolent 
nephew hide his diminished head. 

But seeking is one thing, finding another, more es- 
pecially when the object sought for is to be adorned by 
all the graces and gifted by all the virtues. Nearly 
five years had passed away, and Mr. Chandos was still 
on the look-out, heralded by the prestige of being a 
rich man seeking for a wife. 

People at home began to lose hope and to give up 
pleading for Jack, and a fear spreading abroad that if 
Mr. Chandos did not marry, he would leave his prop- 
erty elsewhere, Mrs. Temple began to think that, if 
Jack did not have it, she did not see why her girls 
should not reap the benefit. There were three of them : 
Isabel, Georgy, and Dora ; they were nearer to him 
than strangers could be. 

No one could say that she was not fond of Jack; 
but still, in their position, it was like giving counte- 
nance to evil, not to take some notice if the reports 
were true : and people did say that he had become 
quite a gambler, and associated with very odd persons, 
who lived by their wits, nobody knew how. 

So Jack^s correspondents first made their letters 
brief, then cold, and gave up writing altogether. Evi- 
dently his relatives were bent on dropping him. Well, 
they must do as pleased them best ; and he feigned to 
smile as if the thought amused him, when in reality it 
stung him to the quick. For much as appearances 
seemed against him, of late Jack’s mode of life had 
been a matter of necessity rather than of choice. He 
was already about to break into the last few hundred 
pounds of that inexhaustable sum with which he had 
started, and when that was gone, where was he to turn 
for more ? 

A dozen spectres rose up before him, each of whom 
bore a likeness of some needy adventurer whom Jack 


ROBIN. 


21 


despised. Was there no better fate in store for him, 
than that he should sink down to the level of such men 
as these ? of every one of whom was told the tale of 
wealth, position, credit gone ; all staked, and lost. 
During the two months of perfect quiet which Jack 
had spent at Venice with the Verikers — who had stayed 
on there first because Mr. Veriker had been unwell, and 
afterwards because at that season everything was so 
cheap — he had ample opportunity for reflection, but it 
seemed as if something was needed to bring him to the 
point of action. This something had been just supplied 
in the blow Mr. Veriker had given him. Fora moment 
his pride had been overcome by indignation, but the 
sight of the father’s despair over the misery he foresaw 
for his daughter had made Jack realize his own situa- 
tion. As he was, Mr. Veriker had been ; unless a 
change came, what Mr. Veriker was he might be. 

“ Never ! never ! never !” 

He turned suddenly round — it was his own voice 
that had startled him. In his excitement he had spoken 
the words aloud. 

The movement changed his former dreaming into a 
more vigorous train of thought — something must be 
done. By what means could he do it 'i where were his 
friends ? and to whom among them could he apply ? 

He did not cast a thought towards his uncle, and 
gradually, one by one, he set aside as useless all those 
who had any immediate intercourse with him ; and, 
having by these means thinned the ranks very consid- 
erably, he found himself reduced to a choice of two al- 
ternatives. He must apply to Mr. Clarkson — who 
had been his father’s lawyer, and who had condemned 
most unsparingly the folly of his former proceedings ; 
or put an advertisement into some paper for work — 
work of any kind, he did not care what. In the heat 
of his present state he felt that breaking stones on the 
road would be preferable to his present life. 

With the desire to escape obligation to Mr. Clarkson, 
he inclined towards advertising until reminded that a 
reference would probably be asked, and to whom could 


22 


ROBIN. 


he refer ? No ; the first plan was best, he must swallow 
his pride, and ask the favor of the old fellow. He 
could but say “ No and if he did, then he would try 
the paper. But how to word his request ? Jack’s steps 
were now turned towards his hotel. During that walk 
back, he framed fifty letters seemingly eloquent enough 
then, but unsuitable to the last degree when, seated in 
his room, pen in hand, he was prepared to commit his 
thoughts to paper. 

‘ Dear Mr. Clarkson, — Dear Sir, — Dear Mr. 
Clarkson,” — 

‘‘ Oh, it’s of no use ; I can’t do it !” and jumping up 
he flung down his pen. I’ve thought and thought till 
I’m sick of thinking, and not a word that I want to 
say will come.” 

Then after two or three minutes standing, during 
which there crept into his face an expression of indom- 
itable will. Jack seated himself again at the table, and 
without waiting or giving himself any further time to 
consider, he wrote : 

Dear Mr. Clarkson : 

When we parted we were both angry with each 
other. You, because I persisted in doing what was 
foolish ; I, because you persisted in advising what was 
wise. 

“ Your prophesy has come to pass. In a foreign 
land I have wasted my substance in riotous living; 
and now that I begin, like the prodigal, to be in want, 
no man offers to assist me. So far a confession of the 
past ; now for the future. I mean to work, and live in- 
dependently of anybody. I won’t apply to my uncle. 
My mother is too far away ; will you give me your as- 
sistance 1 I am ready to turn my hand to anything, so 
if you have any writing or copying, or anything that in 
an office is found to do ; or if you will employ me, or 
say a word in my favor to anybody else, I shall be 


ROBIN, 


23 


much obliged to you. I shall remain in Venice as long 
as I think there is any chance of your answering this 
letter, but as I want to be employed, the quicker I can 
find something to do the better.” 

‘‘ Yours sincerely, 

“ John Dorian.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

Under the weary suspense which followed the send- 
ing of those two letters, for it happened that in the 
same bag with Jack^s lay the one which Mr. Veriker 
had written, the elder man became silent and depressed, 
the younger anxious and irritable. Neither cared to 
discuss with the other the steps he had taken, and by 
tacit consent of both not a word was to be breathed to 
Robin. She, poor child, ignorant of any cause, racked 
her brains in trying to discover what had gone wrong 
with her father, and what could have changed Jack, so 
that in some ways — and here came forth a most lugu- 
brious sigh — he was not a bit like the same to her. 
'rime was, and barely more than a month since too, 
when Robin would have frankly asked the question. 
But now a self-consciousness forbade inquiry, as first a 
flood of color, and then a shower of tears, recalled looks 
no longer given ; and the hand her face was leaning 
against she thrust out of sight, because of a tormenting 
fear that it had been left trembling too long in a palm 
waiting for a pressure which had not come. 

Experience had given Robin some familiarity with 
Jack’s idiosyncrasies. She knew that a trivial accident, 
a misadventure passed unheeded by her father, would 
put Jack out for the day. She had seen him on — seem- 
ingly to her — slight provocation give way to outbursts 
of anger which had almost terrified her, but in balance 
to these failings he had qualities which Robin thought 
belonged to nobody but him ; for, in the sad experience 
of *her young life, whom else had she known in whom 


24 


ROBIN, 


she could place implicit trust, to tell her what was right, 
to point out what was wrong, and show by all his 
dealings that he practised the honesty he taught ? 

The girl heaped on her father the treasures of a love 
which for years had had nothing else to spend itself 
upon ; but though she shut her eyes to his failings, she 
winced under the knowledge of them, and by turns 
grew angry and pleaded with a sense of honor which 
compelled her to condemn many things she saw him 
do. It was Jack who had first taught her to be ashamed 
of practices which up to that time everyone had 
applauded her for : cunning evasions, clever mislead- 
ings, shifty advantages in payments and purchases. Oh, 
how bitterly had she been galled by Jack’s outspoken 
opinion of such dealings ! 

It was soon after their more intimate acquaintance 
that, indignant at such a training, he had reproached 
her father in no measured terms, to be recalled to the 
fact of Robin’s presence by seeing her rush from the 
room in a passion of tears. Distressed at having un- 
intentionally wounded the child, who among her father’s 
visitors was a universal favorite, he presented himself 
the next day with a fine package of bonbons, and finding 
her alone, asked her forgiveness as he placed them in 
her hands. 

An explanation followed, the poor swelling heart was 
opened to seek counsel and direction, and from that day 
Jack and Robin became sworn friends, master and pupil 
— the master inclined at times to abuse the privilege of 
his position by encouraging, petting, scolding, neglect- 
ing, as the mood was on him. On occasions, carried 
away by some whirlwind of passion. Jack for months 
would seem lost to Robin : she here, he there ; would 
they ever meet again t 

Oh yes ! the fancy over, at one of the headquarters 
of resort back would come Jack, to be welcomed none 
the less warmly, because Robin felt certain in herself 
that he was suffering the tortures of a broken heart. 

At Monaco during the previous winter they had seen 
more than ever of each other, and after being parted 


ROBIN, 


25 


for a short time, it was at Robin^s entreaty more than 
at Mr. Veriker’s request that Jack had joined them at 
Venice. 

For two months they had lived daily in one another's 
company, so engrossed that they had failed to notice 
how little they missed other society. Even the flimsy 
pretexts by which Mr. Veriker sought to hide the failing 
health which prevented his joining them, they accepted 
as veritable excuses for his stopping behind ; and while 
they were absent the hours ran so swiftly that as he 
did not say so, they never guessed that time could hang 
heavy on his hands ! 

Oh, happy season ! Oh, magic birth ! which Robin 
felt quickened into life before she knew what name to 
call it by ; and Jack, who before had often masqueraded 
with the passion, now that it came undisguised, refused 
to believe the voice that called it love. 

Alas ! the moment he was resolved to stay away, to 
see less of Robin, to avoid her company, the struggle 
he had to make revealed the truth ; and, almost absurd 
as the idea was of being in love with Robin, Jack had 
to confess that the child to whom, after a very blunder- 
ing fashion, he had tried to tell what long ago they had 
told him ^^;as the right thing to do, had contrived, while 
learning the lesson, to steal away his heart and give 
him in exchange her own. 

Pity him then when Robin^s brown eyes turn to plead 
in vain, for Jack, now fully alive to his share of blame 
in the past intercourse between them, in extenuation of 
his fault resolved that neither by speech nor action 
would he further betray his trust — the promise he had 
given her father, to the letter he would keep ; and until 
he had something to offer, he would not utter a single 
word. 

It was this resolution which made silence about his 
project a necessity ; he felt he must not overtax his 
strength, which was hardly equal to more than the 
announcement of his departure on the day it had to be 
made. Whether anything or nothing came of his letter. 


26 


ROBIN, 


he would leave Venice. So far, that was settled ; the 
point at issue was, what should he find to do ? 

Each time he was near the post — and how many ex- 
cuses he found to be in its neighborhood — he went in 
to ask if anything had come for him, to be told, “ No,’' 
until his heart sickened ; and then, when hope had 
dwindled very low and the question seemed scarcely 
worth putting, a letter was handed to him which he 
had opened, read, and read again, without any distinct 
notion of its contents beyond the fact that his steps 
were keeping time to a voice which sang, “ It’s all right, 
all right ; he has found something for me to do ! ” The 
something — connected with a banking transaction at 
Bucharest — was, as Jack knew in after days, a difficulty 
invented by Mr. Clarkson for the occasion. The good 
friend desired to test the faith of the prodigal, who was 
to start on his mission immediately he received the 
letter. 

This meant leaving Venice without delay ; and having 
ascertained that a train went out that night at eleven 
o’clock. Jack, who, influenced by that unacknowledged 
superstition which discourages preparation, had left 
everything to be done, found himself fully occupied 
until late in the afternoon, when he went to the Veriker’s 
hotel to announce his departure to his friends. 

“ I’ve had an answer to my letter ; it’s all right — I 
am leaving here this evening.” 

While Jack spoke, his eyes had been wandering round 
the room. Robin was not there. Mr. Veriker was 
sitting alone. 

Well, Jack,” he said, with a deep-drawn sigh, “ I 
suppose I ought to say I’m glad, but I can’t — it sticks 
in my throat somehow. You know, though, don’t you ? 
— that it’s all right — that I’m glad you’re satisfied, sorry 
as I am to lose you ? ” 

“ Come, it was you who set me on to it,” said Jack, 
hoping to brighten him. “ I don’t believe I should 
ever have written, but for what you said to me.” 

“ No — wouldn’t you ? I hope it will turn out well. 


ROBIN. 


27 


then. It’s about the only good advice I ever did give, 
so it ought to succeed.” 

“ I hope so, and I think it will.” 

With the rebound of youth. Jack was all impatience 
to be gone ; the sooner he went, the sooner would he 
begin that battle by whieh Robin was to be won. 

“ He’s a first-rate old fellow who has given me a 
hand.” 

Not the uncle, then, you once spoke of ? ” 

‘‘ No, I didn’t write to him — he’s done with me, I 
think ; was going to get married when last I heard.” 

‘‘ Ah ! that’s what you’ll be doing I dare say — as 
soon as you’re settled down respectably. You’ll forget 
all about us, I expect ; and the best thing for you, too.” 

Jack made no reply. 

‘‘ Is Robin out ? ” he asked. 

‘‘ No : she was here sitting by the window a minute 
ago — didn’t you see her as you came in ? ” 

No ; I’ll go and look for her ; ” but before Jack 
could move, the door opened, and Robin appeared. 

‘‘ It’s Jack,” said Mr. Veriker, with the haste a melan- 
choly man is in to announce bad news : he’s come to 
tell us he’s going away.” 

“ Yes ; is he ? ” 

Going away to-night. I tell him,” he added, seeing 
that Robin stood so calm, ” that he’ll very soon forget 
all about us.” 

“ I think — ^yes, I have forgotten something. I’m 
coming back again.” 

The door shut — Robin was gone. 

“ She’ll miss you as much as anyone,” said Mr. Ver- 
iker, with a nod of his head in the direction of the door. 

I don’t know what she’ll do when you’re gone.” 

I hope you’ll look after her,” said Jack. “ Go 
about with her more than you do — you seem,” he added 
bitterly, ‘‘ to forget that she’s a child no longer, and that 
men don’t look on her as such.” Then, after a minute’s 
pause, ‘‘You haven’t heard, have you, from the relations 
you wrote to, yet ? ” 

Mr. Veriker shook his head. 


28 


ROBIN. 


“They’ll never trouble themselves to answer,” he 
said. “I might have known that before I sent the letter 
— only drowning men catch at straws.” 

“ Well, it does not matter so much now, ” and Jack 
smiled cheerily ; “ only, while I think of it, I may as 
well give you an address which will find me at any time 
— of course I shall write ; but in case of anything 
happening, you know : ” and he wrote on a piece of 
paper a direction which he folded up and gave to Mr. 
Veriker. “There, take care of it,” he said; “that 
will always fetch me ; and now I think I’ll go and look 
after Robin.” 

“ Oh, she’ll be back in a minute. You’re notin any 
hurry to go yet, are you 'i ” 

“ Well, I have not very long to stay ; besides, I want 
to ask her about something which she can tell me ; ” 
and he went out into the passage, off from which was 
Robin’s room. 

Already the sound of his footsteps brought her to meet 
him, and taking within his her little cold hands, he 
stopped her, saying as he did so : 

“ You haven’t asked me where I’m going, Robin.’ 

“ You’re going away,” she said simply. What mat- 
tered place or distance, so they had to part 't 

“ Well, but I’ve gone away before, haven’t I ^ ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And I have come back again. Haven’t I always 
come back to you again, eh ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then why should I not come back now ? Listen. 
I mean to come as soon as ever I possibly can. You 
believe me, don’t you ? ” 

“ Yes,” she faltered, and the splash splash of the 
tears, which were falling on his hands, came faster than 
before. Only, I don’t feel we shall ever be the same — 
not Jack and Robin — never, never, never!” and the 
eyes that looked up big with tears made such a tender 
appeal, that Jack’s strength all but gave way — he must 
gather her in his arms and set her heart at ease by 
telling her she had his love. 


ROBIN. 


29 


Fortunately for his resolve, the opening of a door 
recalled him to his senses. 

Oh, that^s right, you’re not gone yet ; ” it was Mr. 
Veriker who spoke. ‘‘ What do you say to our seeing 
you off — going to the station with you ? Eh, Robin, 
shall we ? you’d like to, wouldn’t you ? ” 

“ It was just what I was asking her to do,” said Jack, 
tightening his hold of her hands in the effort at recov- 
ery. 

“ Then we’ll go. We’ve been all in the downs both 
of us to-day, so it will cheer us up to see the last of the 
only friend we have left.” 

Jack was already at the foot of the stairs. 

‘‘ Here, I say, don’t go off like that ; how are we to 
meet ? what steps are you starting from ? ” 

Mr. Veriker hurried along to get a reply to his ques- 
tion, but when he returned to tell the hour and place to 
Robin, she was nowhere to be found. 

Perhaps Mr. Veriker felt some suspicion of his 
daughter’s secret ; any way, when later on Robin made 
her appearance, he made no remark on her flushed 
cheeks and swollen eyes, but launched out into the 
reasons Jack had for going away, and the prospects 
which no doubt would open out before him ; and 
growing more oracular as he talked, he gave it as his 
opinion that Jack was one who would go far, soon find 
his place in the world, and make his fortune. 

“ So good bye to any more of him that you or I will 
ever see, Robin. I know how it is — it has all happened 
to me a score of times before. It isn’t their fault ; they 
mean to keep it up, but after a few letters, a little time 
goes by, and then by degrees, or suddenly, altogether, 
the whole acquaintance comes to an end.” 

Robin gave an assenting nod — it was the easiest way 
of dismissing the question ; besides, notwithstanding 
her wish to defend Jack, the words her father spoke 
seemed to find an echo in her heart, over which a 
gathered load of unshed tears lay heavy. 

^ # 


30 


ROBIN. 


What a mercy is the bustle of departure ! Under its 
shelter how many farewell agonies are hidden. 

A rapid glance at Robin^s tear-stained face had 
photographed itself in Jack^s memor}^ Those wistful 
eyes, filled with unbidden tears, which gathered, rolled 
slowly down, and fell unheeded, came between him and 
all he looked at. 

Mr. Veriker, in his sympathy casting prudence to the 
winds, had seated himself near the gondolier. It was 
best for the luggage, would keep the boat trim, besides 
which he wanted the fellow to give them a song. 

Jack had the place by Robin. Hidden in the dark- 
ness of those narrow highways, through which their 
course to the railway had to be taken, who could see 
them } Drowned in the sound of song and plash of 
water, who could hear them ? Surely now he will speak ; 
say something, if but a word, to show her that her fancy 
is not led astray, that he holds her different now to when 
he used to pet, tease, scold her ! Has he not in reproof 
told her that she was grown into a woman 't — then is 
she not one for him ? 

“Oh, Jack as the words rise to her lips she 

turns her face full on him, plunges her eyes into his, as 
if to drag the secret from out his heart, and for an 
instant searching there they stay — to turn and drop 
their gaze into the waters they are passing through ; 
for the knell is sounded to her hopes, by Jack’s mur- 
mured : 

“ Poor child, poor Robin ! ” 

And very soon, it seemed, the station <^was reached, 
and there were some Italians there they knew, and 
there was a great bustle and noise of leave-taking, in 
the midst of which she and Jack said good-bye. 

And now he had started, was gone, and they were on 
their way back again, her father by her side, sitting in 
Jack’s place, his head sunk on his breast, all his gay 
humor vanished. And she — Robin — shed no tears 
now; they were all frozen up, and lay like a stone on 
the sepulchre of her love ; and as the gondolier^s song 
fell* on her ear, she sighed, for the words ran : 


ROBIN. 


31 


Voria saver che prova piii dolore, 

L’omo che parte o la dona che resta. 
Dona che resta, aresta con dolore, 

L’omo che parte trova’ n’ altro amore.” 


CHAPTER V. 

During the month which followed Jack Dorian’s 
departure, several letters had come from him — three in 
the first fortnight, and after the lapse of a week another, 
which still waited a reply. Strangely enough Robin, 
who during any of Jack’s former absences had been 
ready on the slightest provocation to plunge into a 
correspondence with him, now shirked writing — seemed 
to regard answering his letters as a task of which, 
seeing she had much to occupy her, her father might 
well relieve her. 

“ All right, then, I’ll set about it to-morrow,” Mr. 
Veriker would reply — to-morrow was always Mr. Veri- 
ker’s time for doing anything he had to do — and the 
morrow come, Robin, who by some intuition always 
seemed to discover that the thing had not been done, 
would say a trifle sharply : 

“ If you don’t write soon, dear, you may as well give 
up writing altogether. Jack will have left the place he 
was at, and the letter won’t reach him.” 

Then like a good girl sit down and write the letter 
yourself ; then it will b^e done without any more delay.” 

But no ; in this Robin would not be persuaded. 
She had something to make, something to mend, some- 
thing which would occupy her mind too fully to leave 
any leisure for writing to Jack. 

She did not say that since he had left them she had 
commenced a hundred letters to him ; each one torn up 
and scattered to the winds, because in her desire to 
sting she was conscious of betraying a. bitterness which 
she strove in vain not to discover. The cruel certainty 
that Jack had but amused himself — still regarding her 
as a plaything — had curdled Robin’s fresh love, and 


32 


Ronm. 


left her with a desire to stab, wound, give pain in some 
way to him who had made her so cruelly suffer. 

She was but a few months past seventeen — age when 
Sorrow’s hand strikes so sharply, and Time’s healing 
comes so swiftly. 

Unluckily, too, situated as they were just now, there 
was nothing in her life to distract her. The bathing 
season over, the Italians whom they had known had 
gone away ; and among the many travellers who came, 
there was no one whom they knew. 

Accustomed to see her father easy, gay, and over- 
flowing with good spirits, Robin could not reconcile 
herself to the change which had come over him. He 
who had ever sought pleasure, and found distraction in 
every form of excitement, seemed now incapable of 
being amused by anything or anybody. In place of the 
old rattle of jest and small-talk, which poured out 
between him and Robin, had made the hours when 
they were together have wings, he would sit silent and 
gloomy, only making an effort to speak when his 
daughter’s questions obliged him to give him a reply. 
He would beg her to go out, and grow impatient at 
being left alone ; would propose a walk, and find some 
excuse why she should go one way and he another. 

At her wit’s-end to know the cause of the change, 
Robin was fain to set it down to the dull life they were 
leading ; but when she proposed going away, Mr. 
Veriker saw no reason for leaving. On the contrary, 
there were times when he spoke of spending the winter 
at Venice, and the very next day perhaps, he talked of 
packing up, and being off before the week was out. 
Nothing pleased him, suited him, satisfied him ; and in 
place of that unruffled temper, and the easy good-humor 
which had smoothed all difflculties and gained him a 
hundred friends, he was sharp, irritable, and had fits of 
anger such as Robin had never seen him give way to 
before. Life for both of them seemed to have changed 
its hue ; it had been rose-colored, it was now gray ; a 
mist obscured the sun, clouds had overcast the sky — 
happiness had taken flight. Jack had gone away. 


ROBIN, 


33 


One morning after Robin had been taking a stroll in 
the public gardens, and had come to fetch her father, 
so that they might go out for their dinner as usual, she 
surprised him reading a telegram which for a moment 
he seemed inclined to hide, and then held out towards 
her. 

“ A surprise for you,’’ he said ; somebody is com- 
ing — here — to see us.” 

“ Somebody ! ” 

The world only contained one somebody for Robin ; 
and the blood which iiad rushed to her heart, mounted 
up and flooded her neck and face, so that though her 
eyes were on the words, the letters danced before 
them. 

Christopher Blunt,” she said at length. Christo- 
pher Blunt,” she repeated, dreamily. “ WhoY$> Christo- 
pher Blunt, papa ? I never heard the name.” 

Oh yes ! yes ! you have,” said Mr. Veriker, hastily ; 

it’s the man who married your poor mother’s sister ; 
they offered to take you when she died, and adopt you 
as their own child. You’ve often heard me speak of it 
in days gone by.” 

Of course I remember now,” said Robin, becoming 
alive to the labored way in which her father was speak- 
ing, and noticing that he had been lying down on the 
sofa, on which he was still half-reclining, that his 
necktie was loosened, and that there was a strong 
smell of ether in the room. Have you not been well, 
papa ? ” 

“ Not quite ; nothing much ; a little faint — it’s been 
a hot day, I think.” 

‘‘ But you seemed all right when I went away.” 

Well, my dear, so I was, but I can’t sign an agree- 
ment to always remain as you leave me. I wish I 
could. Have you read what he says 1 ” 

Robin had been going over the words this time with 
understanding, and a gradual comprehension of what 
they were meant to convey : 


3 


34 


ROBIN'. 


‘‘ F^'OVt 


To 


Christopher Blunt, 
Verona, 


Aston Veriker, 
Hotel Bregno, 
Venice. 


Leave here to-morrow ; reach Venice by evening 
train. Please meet me at station.’’ 

“ Why that means to-night,” she said, running her 
eyes back to the date of despatch. It was sent yester- 
day ; how is it we didn’t get it, I wonder ? ” 

‘‘ Well that I mean to inquire about ; the fellow who 
brought it only knew that he had been told to deliver 
it. Considering how they manage their affairs here, 
the wonder is we’ve ever had it at all.” 

Mr. Veriker was trying, while letting his lips speak, 
to arrange what more he should say to Robin. She on 
her part, paying no heed to his words, was thinking 
what could possibly be bringing this man to see them. 

“ Isn’t it very odd his coming ? — You dislike him so, 
don’t you ? Have you any idea why it is ? ” 

“ Why it is I dislike him ? Oh, my ideas are per- 
fectly clear on that score, certainly ; ” and he gave a 
little laugh which experience had taught his daughter 
was meant to conceal a certain shiftiness of answer. 

‘‘ I thought you’d know that was not what I meant,” 
said she gravely ; ‘‘ only it seems so odd for a person 
with whom you have had nothing to do for years, to 
all at once send a telegram like this, that I fancied you 
might have written, or have had a letter from him per- 


haps.” 


‘‘No, that is the only communication I have had from 
him ; what he has in his head by coming I know no 
more than you do.” 

“ Shall you go to the station ? ” 

“ Decidedly I shall. Who knows ? — he may be going 
to make us heirs to his property.” 

“ Not likely — he has a son, hasn’t he ? ” 

“ He had. Look here, Bobby ! perhaps he may have 
come to ask your hand in marriage for him.” 

Robin gave a contemptuous little “ H’m. He might 
have spared himself the trouble, then.” 


ROBIN. 


35 


‘‘ Why ? said the father ; ‘‘ you must marry some 
day/^ 

‘‘ Some day — that is very far off, then/’ 

“ I don’t know that — it would be a very great ease to 
my mind to see you provided for. Think, if I had to 
leave you, how friendless you would be.” 

Leave me ! How leave me 't ” 

Mr Veriker looked up and the eyes of the father 
and daughter met, and in an instant they were locked 
in each others arms, their faces wetted by each others 
tears. 

“ Father, father ! don’t talk like that — whom have I 
left me in the world but you ? ” 

The shadow had come so near that, for the first time, 
Robin had perceived it, and something within her whiS' 
pered that its name was death. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Many years had passed since Mr. Veriker and Mr. 
Blunt had met — years in which the one had mounted 
Fortune’s ladder with as much ease as the other had 
slipped down it. They had married sisters, the one 
bond of union between them, if that can be called 
union which is the origin and motive-power of dissen- 
sion ; for Mr. Veriker, unmindful of a sacrifice which 
had been chiefly made to afford a home for the girl he 
had taken as wife, began by the determination to sepa- 
rate her as effectually as possible from those who be- 
longed to her. 

Necessity does not demand the details which made 
Robina Hamilton marry Mr. Blunt. Suffice it to say 
that at the time he made his offer, she and her sister 
Alice were living on the charity of those who made 
the bread of dependence very bitter. Mr. Blunt, a 
self-made man, who had risen from workman to mas- 
ter, was uneducated, middle-aged, and a widower, but 
he was able to offer independence ; and mightiest of 


3 ^ 


ROBIN, 


all the arguments in his favor there would be a home 
to give to Alice, her young sister. Robina Hamil- 
ton seemed to have come into the world to sacrifice 
her inclinations to the interests of others, therefore, 
when she saw that the welfare of the being dearest 
to her would be furthered by her marriage, she set 
her personal scruples on one side and hesitated no 
longer. 

From the hour of this contemplated marriage, and 
through all the years after, Mrs. Blunt lived the life oi 
a martyr; her sensitive nature revolting against, her 
refinement outraged by, the man whom she had vowed 
to honor. But from her conduct she allowed no one 
ever to guess this ; and when, in due time, Alice be- 
came the wife of Mr. Veriker, and it was apparent that 
he intended to withdraw from any intimacy which en- 
tailed the companionship of Mr Blunt, Robina sacri- 
ficed the love she bore her sister to the obedience she 
had promised to render to her husband. Before under- 
taking her duties she had examined their requirements, 
and now that she was put to the test her strength was 
not wanting. 

Perhaps her greatest trial was in being forced to 
listen to the indignation of Mr. Blunt, indignation the 
more bitter because it was he who had most furthered 
this marriage, for the tumult — caused by seeing Alice 
unjustly treated — over, Mrs. Blunt could not give her 
hearty approval of Mr. Veriker, who, in spite of his 
good looks and fascinating manners, was not the hus- 
band she would have chosen for her sister. 

But in this her better judgment was over-ruled ; 
Alice would not believe it possible that her lover 
could have a fault, and Mr. Blunt, with the unacknowl- 
edged desire of being brother-in-law to a man who was 
cousin to a lord, shut his eyes to everything but the 
fact that Mr. Veriker’s name was to be found in the 

Peerage.^’ 

But unluckily before long Mr. VerikePs name was 
also to be found in the bankruptcy list, and then it was 
that revenge came sweet. 


ROBIN, 


37 


Mr. Blunt would listen to no appeal. He lend his 
money to a fellow who had turned up his nose at him ! 
not if he knew it, he wouldn’t. No, no ! let him go to 
his cousin. Lord this or Lord that, and see what they 
thought of him ; he thought him a swindler, a vaga- 
bond, a cheat who had entered the house of an honest 
man and imposed himself on a respectable family, and 
so he’d tell him if ever the opportunity was given him. 
And the opportunity being given him a scene of recrim- 
ination took place, which separated the two men for- 
ever; it even divided the sisters; and the Verikers 
soon after taking flight from England, Mrs. Blunt had 
to call up all the fortitude she could muster, in order 
to bear the burden she had imposed on herself. 

There was one duty attached to her sad lot which 
very soon became a pleasure. Her husband had a son 
— a boy of six or seven — whose birth had made Mr. 
Blunt a widower. The child had come late in his mar- 
ried life after years of desire, as if Fortune, having be- 
gun to shower gifts, could not stay her hand from be- 
stowing anything he asked of her. 

But in their fulfillment wishes sometimes entail an 
undreamed-of penalty ; in this case it was the death of 
his wife, a weak, sickly woman for whom he had never 
seemingly cared much, but who left a vacant place in 
his heart which no one else could ever fill, for she had 
been his early choice, the partner of his struggles, the 
companion in his difficulties. 

Through the whole period of her expectancy the poor 
wife felt her joy over-shadowed by the dread of her 
coming end, but she never allowed her fears to be sus- 
pected by her husband ; and when with life ebbing fast 
away she pointed to the* child and tried to smile, a rush 
of tenderness such as he had never felt before mastered 
the strong man, and he offered God back the child he 
had coveted, if in exchange He would spare him the 
wife he had never valued. 

To see, therefore, Robina make this boy the object 
of her maternal care gave her a hold on Mr. Blunt that 
nothing else could have affected ; and when some years 


38 


kOBW, 


later, at great risk to herself, she nursed little Christo- 
pher through a terrible fever, and by her devotion saved 
his life, although Mr. Blunt said little, he registered a 
solemn vow, that ask what she might, he would not 
deny her. 

But Mrs. Blunt was not a woman to make demands, 
and a very long time went ere her husband was called 
on to redeem his — to her — unknown pledge. 

That sudden exodus of the Verikers from England 
had seemed their starting-point of downfall ; from that 
time they were constantly in difficulties, sometimes at 
home, sometimes abroad — now sinking, now swimming 
— within an ace of making a fortune, on the very brink 
of ruin. 

In vain did Robina urge all she could think of, and 
often more than even to herself she could justify, in 
Mr. Veriker’s defence ; but of what use advancing the 
plea of extravagant habits to a man who had contrived 
to save on a pound a week ? how could she echo the 
lament that it was impossible to live on three hundred 
a year when Mr. Blunt had thought himself passing rich 
on less than half that sum ? 

Tender heart ! she did the best she could, and by 
saving, pinching, and denying herself in every way, she 
contrived from time to time to send her sister some sub- 
stantial proof of her love, more especially after a little 
girl was born, to whom they made her godmother, and 
gave the name of Robina. 

This child was six years old when, after an illness of 
short duration, the news came of her mother’s death, 
and then it was that Mrs. Blunt made her appeal, and 
Mr. Blunt granted her request. A letter was sent to 
Mr. Veriker, offering to take the child, and, with the 
understanding that he would make no later claim on 
her, adopt her as their daughter. 

The request — in the making of which Mr. Blunt in- 
sisted on putting in a word here and there — came to a 
bowed-down, sorrow-stricken man, Mr. Veriker in 
spite of all the follies by which he had tried her, wor- 
shipped his wife with a lover-like devotion to the end ; 


ROBIN. 


39 


the child she had borne him was the apple of his 
eye. 

Resign this, his only treasure, to those who, besides 
stealing her love from him, would bring her up to hate 
and despise her father ? No ! rather would he jump 
into the river with her ; and his gall being stirred by 
their wish to rob him of all that remained of that wife 
so dear, he flung back his refusal worded with so much 
disdain and bitterness, that it was impossible for a 
time that Mrs. Blunt should ask her husband to recon- 
sider the subject. 

Later on she wrote herself, but no reply came. An- 
other, and another letter, begging for news of the child, 
remained unanswered. What was to be done ? The 
question was more than ever before her mind when an 
illness prostrated her, which at an unexpected moment 
took a fatal turn, and she rapidly sank — not before she 
had said to her husband in the presence of his son 
Christopher : 

‘‘ Promise to remember that Aliceas child is my god- 
child, and that her name is Robina.’’ 

Seven years had gone by between the night when 
those were spoken and the morning when Mr. Veriker’s 
letter brought them back to Mr. Blunt^s memory, but 
the impression they had made was not worn out, and 
the telegram just received was the result of their in- 
fluence. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Seeing that if Mr. Blunt was to be met at the sta- 
tion there was no time left for delay, Mr. Veriker has- 
tily sought to restore his daughter’s composure by 
laughing at her fears, and declaring that except for a 
little faintness which he could perfectly account for, he 
felt as well as he ever had felt in his life. 

“ Upon my word,” he said, ‘‘ I don’t know what peo- 
ple would say of two silly geese who can’t take a joke 


40 


ROBIN, 


without flinging themselves into one anothers arms. 
I don’t know which deserves a whipping most, you 
or 1.” 

Robin smiled. The shadow past, she wondered 
herself why she had been struck with such sudden 
fear. 

But you looked so,” she said, I couldn’t help it, 
papa.” 

“ Bless my soul ! I must take care not to look like 
that again, at least not to-night, or I may have old 
Blunt’s sixteen-stone weight on my neck.” 

‘‘ Oh, he’s a big man, is he ? ” said Robin. 

“ Big ! ” said Mr. Veriker, puffing out his cheeks and 
swelling himself to an attitude of great importance. 

‘ In his own estimate there isn’t a street in England 
wide enough for him to walk down. The grand Ca- 
nal may serve him, but nothing narrower, depend on 
that.” 

“ What are you going to do with him, papa ? ” 

That depends on what he wishes to be done with. 
It’s time, however, I set off to see, or the train will be 
in, and he will be off, and I shan’t be there.” 

He talked while re-arranging his collar and necktie, 
hoping to divert his daughter’s attention from his 
movements. He had decided to go to the station, but 
the effort to get there was costing him more than even 
to himself he cared to own. 

“ If she were only out of the room, I should get on 
better,” he thought, oppressed by the desire to draw a 
deep breath, and stopped by the certain recurrence of 
a sharp stab of pain, which, when it came, had forced 
him to cry out. 

Robin, what if you were to go as far as the steps 
and see if you could find Paolo ^ I’ll follow directly 
after.” 

Robin threw on her hat ; in an instant she had gone. 
Paolo was waiting there, and she secured him and his 
gondola. 

It’s all right I’ve got him,” she called out as soon 
as she caught sight of her father, and running to meet 


ROBUST. 


41 


him, she turned and walked by his side. “I’d best 
look after myself about dinner, hadn’t I ? You’re most 
likely to go off somewhere with him, and if not, you’ll 
come back at once, I suppose ? ” 

“ Of course I shall,” Mr. Veriker managed to say. 

Distressed as he was by this indescribable sense of 
suffering, the mere giving utterance to a word was a 
labor. He had felt nothing like this since the night 
when he had spoken to Jack Dorian, and a presentiment 
haunted him that at sight of his old enemy a similar 
spasm would attack him. The bare supposition of 
that agony brought out a damp sweat upon his fore- 
head ; a trembling seized upon his limbs. Overcome 
by a sickening nervousness that he could not master, 
he made a stop. 

“ After all,” he said, drawing in his breath as if seized 
with a sudden pain, ” I shan’t be able to go and meet 
this man. For Heaven’s sake, my dear, don’t look at 
me like that ” (Robin had turned on him a face filled 
with alarm) : “ It’s nothing but a passing distress, 
which I hoped some brandy that I took before coming 
out would have set straight, but it hasn’t done so.” 

“ Whatever shall we do, papa ? ” 

“ Do ? Oh ! why you must go instead of me, that’s 
all. Tell him I came as far as here, but I didn’t feel 
well and couldn’t get on ^ and that I want to know 
where he means to stop, so that I may see him either 
to-night, or the first thing to-morrow morning.” 

Robin hailed Paolo, and made a sign to him that 
she was ready. 

“ And I was going to say,” added Mr. Veriker, “ if 
he begins asking any questions about me, remember 
that you don’t know anything. Say that I said so, but 
that I would explain everything to him. You under- 
stand ? ” 

Robin assented. 

It was not the first time such a caution had been 
given her. 

“ You’re safe to spot him,” continued her father — 


42 


ROBIN, 


‘‘ big, fat, pompous-looking, with a red face, and 
Britisher marked on every line of it/’ 

“ I’ll find him out,” she said, searching in her pocket 
for a coin to bestow on the old fellow who was holding 
the boat. “ And afterwards I’ll come back as soon as 
ever I can.” 

‘‘ Let Paolo wait and bring you back, unless you see 
that you can be of any service. You know I want you 
to edge yourself into the old brute’s good graces. 
Don’t forget to let him know that you’re called Robin 
after your aunt Robina, and — here, I say,” for she was 
already taking her seat, “ while you’re there, suppose 
you make a stretch, and see how it sounds to call him 
uncle.” 

‘‘ Uncle ! ” cried Robin, with a little gesture of 
contempt. ‘‘ Come, I like that ; ” and her fears being 
lightened by this seeming return of her father’s usual 
manner, she kissed her hand, showing a smiling, bright 
face, as the boat pushed off and away. 

The moon was beginning to rise — its slender cresset 
hung in a cloudless sky, yet in the narrow canals 
through which their way led, the light had long ago 
died out. Except for the swish of water when some- 
thing went swiftly by, not a sound disturbed the silence, 
and Robin, who at starting had been busily arranging 
what she would do and say, gradually forgot the 
object of her present journey, and let creep into her 
mind the recollections of the last time she had gone 
that way ; how Paolo had taken them then ; how her 
father had made him sing, and, without seeming to 
listen to the song, Jack had sat by her side. 

Leaned back, hidden in the darkness, Robin let her 
tears flow fast — flow out of pity for her own sad case ; 
she was so young to have her love thrown back upon 
herself, so friendless, so desolate, for, although 
unacknowledged, even in thought, the chill of that 
shadow she had seen hovering near her father still 
ran cold within her, and its icy presence had ousted 
out love to fill its place by a great yearning after sym- 
pathy. Oh for an ear into which she could pour her 


ROBm. 


43 


troubles ! a breast on which she could sob out her sor- 
row ! Involuntarily her arms were stretched out, only 
to fall listlessly down a moment later, for who was 
there now to answer that appeal ? Jack had left her. 
Jack had forsaken her. 

The raised voice of Paolo, as with a dexterous move- 
ment he shot his gondola into the very midst of noise 
and bustle, roused Robin from her dreaming. They 
were nearing the station, passing the Ca d’Oro, whose 
front shone here and there in flecks of light. The 
struggle to push ahead warned them that they had no 
time to spare, and the sound of the near approaching 
train was heard as Robin began to mount the station 
steps. 

“ Big, fat, pompous,” she found herself repeating, 
as some minutes later she stood viewing the individual 
travellers who, in all the wild confusion of a foreign 
arrival, seemed to crowd round and pass before her. 
Englishmen there were, and in very respectable num- 
bers too, but not one among them in any way answering 
to that description. 

‘‘ He can’t have come,” she thought giving a sigh of 
relief as she retraced her steps back from a scrutiny 
which had extended to the very end carriage of the 
train ; they have all gone — that is, nearly all,” for her 
attention was at that minute drawn to a young man 
whom she had passed before, but without taking any 
notice of him — perhaps she would not have noticed 
him now, but that as her glance fell on him he turned 
abruptly away, making it apparent that he had been 
watching her. 

Either to save himself embarrassment, or that he 
had really a question to put, he left his luggage standing 
while he stepped over to speak to a porter — an oppor- 
tunity seized by Robin to crane her neck as she passed 
by and read the letters, which painted white on his 
Gladstone bag, stood no doubt as the initials of the 
bashful owner. C. B.” 

Her voice confirmed what her eyes had seen, and 


44 


ROBIN, 


then her face in turn grew very red, for she had spoken 
aloud, and the young man had heard her. 

‘‘ I beg your pardon,” she stammered, “ but I am 
trying to find some one.” 

Are you ? So am I,” and he stopped. 

You’re not Mr. Blunt, are you ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, I am — is your name Veriker ? ” 

1 am Robin Veriker.” 

“What! Mr. Veriker’s daughter ? lam Mr. Blunt’s 
son.” 

“ Oh, that accounts for it, then ; I was looking for 
your father ; and they both shook hands, took a little 
survey of each other, and then laughed rather shyly> 

“ Isn’t Mr. Blunt with you ? ’’ asked Robin. 

“ No ; he never intended coming. Mr. Veriker has 
had his letter hasn’t he } ” 

“ I don’t think so ; he was very surprised when he 
got the telegram — it only reached us this evening — and 
thinking it was your father, he wondered rather what 
was bringing him.” 

“ Oh I — ah, yes ! ” 

Mr. Veriker’s letter had warned them that his state of 
health was not known to his daughter. Christopher 
now guessed that the appeal he had made had been 
also kept from her. 

“ I shall have all that to explain to him. I hope he 
is well.” 

“ No, not quite, he isn’t or he would have come him- 
self to meet you. He did attempt it, but he was 
obliged to go back — it has been very hot. I dare say 
you have felt it to-day, traveling. Have you anything 
besides what is here ? ” 

“ No ; this is all.” 

“ Then shall we go ? ” 

She led the way, Christopher following her. 

“ I have a gondola waiting for me,” she said, as they 
went down. “ I don’t know what you are going to do, 
but can I take you anywhere ? ” 

“ Oh I thank you, I ” and he hesitated. 

“ What is it ? ” she asked. 


ROBIN. 


45 


“ Well, frankly, I thought your father would have ar- 
ranged for me. Evidently the letter has gone astray ; 
it’s only a question of an hotel, though. To which 
shall I go Can you decide for me ? 

“ There are lots of hotels, only — I — was thinking 
whether perhaps it wouldn’t be best to ask papa. I 
could run up to him while you waited at the steps — it’s 
no distance ; I shouldn’t keep you.” 

Would it be troubling him ? — perhaps it would if he 
is not well, and it does not in the least matter. I don’t 
care where I am put, so long as I am not far off from 
you.” 

“ I wish I could ask you to come to us,” Robin said, 
her face growing a little rosy, ‘‘ but I dare say you 
know that we are not very well off, and our hotel is one 
of those where English people never go. It is kept by 
an Italian — you know the sort of place. It would not 
suit you in the least, I feel certain of that.” 

I wish you would let me try,” said Christopher. 
I am not at all difficult to please, and my object 
in coming was to see as much of you as I possibly 
could.” 

Was it 'I ” Robin’s look betrayed her surprise. 
Did you only come to see us, then ? ” 

‘‘ That was all. It seems to astonish you.” 

It does rather, because, you know, I have been 
used to think we were great enemies.” 

But you don’t think so now ? ” 

She shook her head. 

No, I don’t. Come along ; we will go and ask 
papa ; ” and turning, she said something ts the porter, 
adding to Christopher, I’ve told him to take on 
your luggage and hail the gondala.” 


CHAPTER VIIL 

Coming from under the covered station out on the 
steps, Christopher’s bewildered senses seemed lost in 


46 


ROBIN’. 


amazement. The scene which lay before him was so 
unlike anything he had ever looked upon, that he could 
scarce persuade himself it was not the conjured-up art 
of some magician's wand, and, following Robin, he 
elbowed his way through the crowd, and got into the 
gondola like one in a dream. 

The wondrous grandeur of that line of palaces, 
shown by the moon's pale light, in all their majesty ; 
the glitter of a thousand twinkles reflected on the sur- 
face of that glassy water ; the weird, fantastic boats 
passing, crossing, shooting ahead of each other, guided 
by the strange cries of the gondoliers — all was new to 
Christopher, who felt each moment a fresh demand 
made on his interest and attention. 

How wonderful," he said, all this seems to me ! „ 
Why, have you never been here before ? " asked 
Robin. 

Never — I was going to say I had never been abroad 
before ; but once, during the Exhibition, I went with 
my father to Paris — coming so far as this was quite an 
undertaking for me." 

Robin turned on him a look of inquiry. 

“ Are you wondering," he said, with a half-amused 
smile, what made me come so far.^ " 

Well, yes ; " and she blushed and laughed, adding 
quickly, “ but you need not tell me if it is anything to 
do with papa, because it might be about business which 
he would not care for me to know. Men get mixed up 
with such a lot of things," she continued by way of ex- 
planation, ‘‘ betting and racing and playing, that, to my 
mind, girls are best out of altogether." 

For a moment Christopher was a little taken back. 
I'm very glad to hear you say so," he said gravely. 

I have a horror of gambling myself." 

‘‘ Have you ? Oh, I haven't a bit, if one was only 
always able to win — it's the losing I hate. Papa 
hadn't any decent luck at all last year. I don't fancy 
we shall go to Monaco this season " she made a little 
pause, “ He does not seem well^ " she said thought- 


ROBIN. 


47 


fully ; “ his spirits are not the same— I can’t think why. 
You don’t know any reason, do you 1 ” 

“ Oh, I suffer dreadfully from low spirits myself, 
without any reason at all ” said Christopher evasively , 
“ that is why this change may do me good, and it might 
be the same with your father. If I could persuade him 
to come to England, what would you say ? ” 

Say he wasn’t to go without me.” 

The earnestness of her words made Christopher 
smile. 

‘‘You would not consent to be parted from him 
then,” he said jestingly. 

“ Parted ! that was what you wanted to do once be- 
fore,” she said fiercely, “ to part us, and I have hated 
you for it ever since ; and I shall hate you a thousand 
times more if you try now in any way to attempt it.” 

“ That is right ! I am very glad to hear you say so. 
No, no — believe me, very far from my mind is it to 
wish to separate you and your father.” 

The sympathy in his yoke touched Robin ; and the 
tears, which for the last few hours had lain very close 
to her eyes, welled over and fell in a quick shower. 

“ I don’t know what is the matter with me to-day,” 
she said, struggling to regain composure. “ I seem to 
be ready to laugh or cry if anyone but holds up his 
finger to me — I’m not always quite so foolish, you 
know, but — he isn’t well — that — I can see ; and — if you 
are only two, it does make such a difference, doesn’t 
it ? You haven’t anyone but a father, have you ? ” 

“ No ; I have lost my mother — that is, the one who 
was a mother to me — your aunt, Robina. It was she 
who told me about you, who used to talk of you, who 
gave me the desire to see the one who was named after 
her.” 

Robin nodded her head — she could not trust herself 
to speak just then, and they went on in silence. Out 
of the Grand Canal they had now turned into one of 
the narrow passages in the midst of darkness, with all 
around hushed and still. 

Gliding swiftly stealthly on, they seemed like 


48 


ROBIN. 


shadows who have left lifers shore to “ shape their 
course into the silent land.” The thought came to 
Christopher, and there ran through him a little 
shiver. 

“ You are cold,” said Robin, as they shot out into 
the light again ; “ but here we are close to the steps 
now, there in front, do you see ? I won’t keep you any 
time while I run up — if you don’t mind, I think it would 
be best that I should first speak to papa.” 

She was soon in the Calle S. Moise and across the 
bridge, close to which stood their unpretending hotel. 
Her father was upstairs in his room, the door of which 
she pushed gently open and entered. 

“ Better } ” she asked anxiously, as she tiptoed in. 

Right as a nine-pin ; I knew I should be. Well, 
what about him ? — has he come ? ” 

“ Yes ; I’ve hooked my fish and am waiting to land 
him. Such fun at the station ; it’s the greatest wonder 
I did not miss him ! It’s the son — not the father — the 
father never meant to come.” 

‘‘ Never meant to come ! ” 

Mr. Veriker sat suddenly upright so that he might 
face his daughter. 

“ Do you mean that we’re to be spared the old ruf- 
fian altogether ? ” 

Yes. He thought you knew. He says they sent 
you a letter.” 

“ When did they send me a letter ? ” 

I don’t know ; but we mustn’t stop to talk about 
that now, because he’s waiting — he wants to know if 
he can’t come here and be with us altogether.” 

“ But certainly bring him to me — let me clasp him to 
my beating heart.” 

Yes ; but think of what the house is like, papa — 
be serious now, do.” 

Never more so, my dear. I’m only dying to hug 
the fellow like a bear, for joy that he hasn’t turned out 
to be his old father. Joking apart, though I see no 
reason on earth why he shouldn’t come. What’s he 
like, eh ? ” and the screw up he gave to his face showed 


ROBIN, 


49 


that the opinion he had formed was by no means flat- 
tering to Christopher. 

“ No ! he’s not a bit like that,” said Robin promptly. 
‘‘ Perhaps you wouldn’t pick him out for looking like a 
gentleman, but it would never enter your mind to think 
him vulgar. I like him so far, and if ” — and she let 
her eyes wander round-‘‘ you think it would do, I should 
like him to come here.” 

Off you go and bring him back with you, then; 
Hang it all, if a Veriker can put up with the place, it’s 
good enough for a Blunt any day ! ” 

The life into which Christopher Blunt was about to 
plunge was as new to him as though an Icelander 
should be suddenly dropped down into the heart of 
Africa. 

For years the word home ” in the sense of social 
intercourse and family ties, had for him had no mean- 
ing. It was true that he and his father inhabited one 
house together, but they would have been bound closer 
to each other had fifty miles separated them. They 
had not a taste, an idea, a thought, in common. Mr. 
Blunt’s one aim in life had been to get on, his pride to 
be counted a cute fellow. Success had so far rewarded 
his efforts that he was now a rich man with — strange as 
it sounds but more common than it appears — the expe- 
rience that it is sometimes easier to make money than 
it is to spend it. 

Not content to remain where his eyes were constantly 
caught by the rungs of the ladder by which he had 
mounted, some few years before he had purchased an 
estate on which he had gone to live, under the idea of 
setting himself up as a county magnate. Why not ? 
He had always ranked people according to the riches 
with which they were surrounded, and if he lived in the 
biggest house, kept the most servants, and drove the 
best horses, surely he would be entitled to a corres- 
ponding amount of consideration. 

So in prospect of the position he was about to as- 
sume, he had, to quote his own statement, the place 
put in thorough repair, the gardens arranged after the 

4 


50 


ROBIAT. 


most approved fashion, and the house done up to the 
standard of decorative perfection, to look as if no 
money had been spared upon it,” and having altered 
the place — the dwelling of a family who had held it for 
generations — into an eyesore to all the surrounding 
neighborhood, Mr. Blunt, in all the pomp of pride and 
glory, came down and took up his abode there, and 
was furious because nobody showed any disposition to 
welcome him. Some few called, others took no notice ; 
the rector did not entertain, the squire was always 
away, and although some years had now elapsed since 
he came to Wadpole, but very little progress towards 
further intimacy had been affected. 

As is natural in such a condition, Mr. Blunt sought 
every cause but the real one ; his most fixed idea being 
that the house needed a mistress, his son Christopher 
must marry. Easy enough to say, and in the case of 
most young men with such prospects, easy enough to 
carry out ; but unfortunately for the speedy accomplish- 
ment of his father's desires, young Christopher was 
shy, retiring, and sensitive to a degree. 

Fully alive to the ostentation and vulgar display 
which delighted his father, the son winced under the 
contempt he saw it drew forth, and nothing would in- 
duce him to thrust himself among persons whose cold 
toleration humiliated him with the sense of a false 
position. Added to this, he bore the burden of consti- 
tutionally delicate health, a misfortune which but added 
strength to Mr. Blunt’s wishes. Unwilling to acknow- 
ledge that anything belonging to him could labor under 
defect or imperfection, he attributed his son’s frequent 
indispositions to the way he had been brought up. 

‘‘ It’s been overdone,” he said ; he’s had too much 
care, he’s been completely mollycoddled ; he wants a 
spice of the devil put into him.” 

And with Mr. Veriker’s letter in his hand, the 
thought came of what a past master in that art was the 
man from whom this letter had come. Christopher, 
while speaking of the Verikers, had let drop a wish to 
see Italy, and above all to see Venice. Why not let 


ROBIN. 51 

him go ? It was an opportunity which might not occur 
again. 

‘‘ What do you say/’ he said, “ to setting off at once 
and sifting out how much truth there is in what he 
says here 1 ” 

Christopher caught at the suggestion. Since the 
death of his stepmother, he had been possessed with a 
great desire to find out the child who had lain so close 
to her heart. 

“ You’ll write and tell them to expect me,” he said 
before starting. 

‘‘ But I shan’t know when you’ll get there — not the 
exact day, I shan’t.” 

“ Oh, I’ll send a telegram to tell them that ; but you 
prepare them — I can’t bear dropping down on people 
unawares.” 

‘‘ All right,” said the father, and he nodded his head 
in farewell, adding inwardly, ‘‘ and that’s just what I 
want you to do, my boy ; never give the devil the 
chance of getting his boots on, or he’ll take good care 
his cloven foot don’t meet your eye.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

If the art of making people feel at ease consists in 
being thoroughly at ease one’s self, it was an utter 
impossibility for any one to suffer constraint in Mr, 
Veriker’s presence, and the greeting he gave to Chris- 
topher, although it fell short of the metaphor he had 
indulged in, was sufficiently warm to do away with all 
embarrassment between them. Induced by the tender 
solicitations of Robin, which were backed by the 
half-shy entreaties of Christopher, Mr. Veriker con- 
sented to make the effort to try and go out so that they 
might have dinner together. 

“To the Caffd Quadri,” Robin suggested. “ A 
table in the window, so that we can hear the band 
play.” 


52 


ROBIN. 


“ Come on then, let^s be off,’’ said Mr. Veriker. 
“ Christopher, you must be our guest, and Robin shall 
order the dinner for us — we always make her caterer 
for the mess.” 

Then as you will want to walk slowly, papa, 
wouldn’t it be best for me to run on, then we shan’t be 
kept waiting so long, you know ? ” 

‘‘ And give you an opportunity of bamboozling 
Erasmo, your favorite waiter ? ” 

Certainly, if I can get as much by it as we used at 
the Lido ; ” and a sudden quick blush overspread her 
face, which had not died away when she turned and 
was gone. 

Mr. Veriker waited for an instant until she was out 
of sight, and then tightening the hold he had taken of 
Christopher’s arm he said, with an altogether altered 
voice, and quite a different manner : 

“ I wish I could tell you half the gratitude I feel to 
you for coming here — the idea of such a possibility 
never entered my head : but if I had thought for a 
year I couldn’t have hit on anything that would have 
given me such complete satisfaction — the last hour 
seems to have made another man of me.” 

It was Christopher’s turn to look pleased. 

I am so glad to hear you say that,” he said 
heartily, ‘‘ because all the time I had my doubts — I 
wondered whether you would care to see me ; indeed, 
more than once, I said so to my father, but he pooh- 
poohed the idea completely, and insisted on my setting 
off without waiting to write the letter in which I had 
thought of announcing my intention.” 

It was very good of your father, after all that has 
passed between us, to let you come ; you must tell 
him from me that I said so.” 

“Yes, but I hope you’ll have an opportunity of 
telling him yourself.” 

Christopher had not been with them more than an 
hour, and already visions of seeing the two comfortably 
settled close to Wadpole were floating before him, his 
usual shyness — that embarrassment he was wont to 


ROBIN. 


53 


feel with strangers — in this case did not seem to 
oppress him. 

Mr. Veriker shook his head, as if there ran through 
him a shiver. 

“ No,’’ he said, not likely — I shall never see Eng- 
land again,” and he choked down a rising sigh ; ‘‘ but 
that little girl of mine, when you’ve seen what she is, 
been with her, found out her ways, got to know her — 
well, she wont be left so utterly friendless and desolate 

that I’m certain of By the way,” he added, 

interrupting Christopher, who was beginning to speak, 
“ she knows nothing of what I wrote about ; she fan- 
cies I’m not quite the thing, but of this,” and he gave 
a vague indication that it was his heart he meant, “ not 
a syllable. I could not bear the sight of her sorrow : 
it would take away every chance I have — all depends 
on my keeping myself quiet, you know.” 

‘‘ I was most careful, after what your letter said, 
not to give her a hint of the reason why I had come to 
see you,” Christopher answer earnestly ; ‘‘ but as to 
her being friendless, that never could have happened, 
so long as those are left who owe so much to one whose 
name she bears.” 

Ah, her aunt Robina, your step-mother, you mean ; 
yes, she was a devoted, good creature, wasn’t she ? it 
must go with the name I suppose, for this girl is an 
angel — nothing short of it.” 

“ She looks like one,” said Christopher simply. 

Mr. Veriker threw a quick glance on him. 

You like her looks then — you’re not disappointed 
in her } ” 

‘‘ Disappointed ! ” and Christopher smiled. “ No — 
perhaps I had pictured to myself that she is quite 
different to her ; her face seems to me very beautiful. 
She is like you.” 

“ You must tell her so,” and Mr. Veriker shook 
Christopher’s hand approvingly, tell her you think 
she is like me ; nothing pleases her better than to be 
thought like her scrapegrace of a father. Come, that 
ought to score one on rqy side, oughtn’t it ? ” 


54 


ROBIN, 


But Christopher did not answer. . Out from the 
narrow Merceria they had passed through into the 
Piazza, and the novelty of the unexpected change was 
sufficient to account for his silence : the fantastic out- 
lines of that marvellous Basilica, the stretch of palaces, 
the tall masts, the solitary Campanile — here standing 
out plainly visible, there cast into shadow — filled him 
with wonder and amazement. Bewildered, he'walked 
on all unmindful of something Mr. Veriker was telling 
him, until a sudden halt brought back his senses. 

‘‘ Here we are ! this is our place ; ’’ and nodding 
pleasantly to the occupants of the chairs through which 
he and Christopher had to thread their way, Mr. Veri- 
ker made for the entrance of the caffe. 

The usual hour for dinner was past, and already peo- 
ple were beginning to congregate outside, establishing 
themselves to listen to the band while they chatted 
together over coffee and ices. 

At the foot of the staircase inside the door, Erasmo, 
with face wreathed in smiles of welcome, was wait- 
ing to receive them and usher them up into the cheer- 
ful room, where at a raised table in her favorite end- 
window Robin was already seated. She had taken off 
her hat, and, half leaning out of the window, was 
trying with little pellets of bread to coax some stray 
pigeons on to the sill. Hearing footsteps she turned 
her head. 

“ Ah, here you are ! that is right,’’ she said. ‘‘ Now 
then, let me arrange you. No, no, papa, not there — I 
am going to sit there,” and she indicated the seat 
reserved for her father ; “ and this chair,” and she laid 
her hand on the back of one near, “ I thought would be 

nicest for .” There was an intentional pause, and 

then she turned her speech into, ‘‘ Will you sit here ? ” 
adding before Christopher had time to accept, “ What 
ought I to call him ? I don’t quite know — Christopher 
seems so terribly familiar ; and if I say Mr. Blunt I 
shall think he is his father.” 

Oh, I can’t stand having him called Mr, Blunt,” 
exclaimed Mr, Veriker quickly. 


ROBW, 


55 


‘‘ But if you will — and don’t mind,” said Christopher, 

I should think it so kind of you to call me by my 
Christian name.” 

“ Shall I ? Would you really like it ? But if so, you 
must call me Robin, remember ; I won’t answer any 
longer to Miss Veriker.” 

‘‘ Miss Veriker ! ” echoed her father. You Miss 
Veriker ! why, Bobby, you were never Miss Veriker to 
any one in your life.” 

“ Hush, sir ! ” she said, assuming a great show of 
dignity ; “ hold your tongue, if you please ! How do 
you know what he thinks of me ? I may make a great 
impression on — Christopher.” 

Oh, the wicked twinkle which for her especial benefit 
he managed, unobserved by Christopher, to throw into 
his eye ! No wonder that Robin turned quickly round 
and began to feign much interest in the arrival of the 
dinner. 

Although Christopher — because he had never en- 
joyed a dinner so much in his life — asked permission 
to keep the menu^ he had not the faintest conception of 
what he had been eating. He knew that dish after 
dish had succeeded one the other, and that over every 
one they had laughed and talked together, until into him 
there was infused a gaiety of mood and manner such 
as he would never have credited a sober, matter-of- 
fact man like himself with possessing. What had 
come to him he could not tell, but so new was the feel- 
ing, that he was oppressed by the idea that presently 
he should wake up to find it was all a dream, and that 
Robin, her father, the lights, music, people, all, had 
vanished. 

‘‘ Try as I may, I cannot get it out of my head that 
I am looking at a play,” he kept repeating, reluctant 
to leave the window out of which he and Robin were 
leaning. 

Mr. Veriker, more at ease than he had felt for 
weeks, was lounging stretched out on one of the 
velvet-covered settees ; his eyes were half closed, and 


ROBm. 


5 ^ 

without being asleep he was enjoying the sweets of 
repose. 

Every minute I feel down will go the curtain, and 
the whole thing will be ovet.’^ 

Robin shook her head. Novel as the scene was to 
Christopher, to her it had become familiar. 

“ Night after night,'' she said, ‘‘ especially when the 
band pla3^s, all the people turn out, and walk up and 
down here." 

What a motley, fantastic throng was passing to and 
fro before their eyes — women gaily dressed or wrapped 
in their black mantillas ; soldiers ; sailors with red 
caps ; smartly sashed gondoliers ! Christopher, fasci- 
nated, declared that he could stand there for hours. 

“ I feel as if I should never be tired of watching 
them," he said. 

‘‘ I often feel so, too ; and do you make up stories 
about them ? I do. I think what some are saying 
and others answering — people like those for instance," 
and she pointed to a young girl surrounded by a small 
crowd of admirers, amongst whom, with a look from 
her eyes, a smile thrown over her shoulder, and the 
aid of her fan she was managing to preserve the balance 
of good humor. 

I'm afraid that she's a little bit of a flirt," said 
Christopher, after' watching her ; it looks like it by 
the way she is encouraging them all." 

“ And why shouldn't she, eh ? What harm does it 
do " 

^’‘They might tell you a great deal of harm. Suppose 
the poor fellows are in love with her 1 " 

“ And suppose so ! " 

‘‘ Well, she has but one heart to bestow, and those 
who don't get it may die of despair, for aught we 
know." 

Christopher was smiling, but Robin's face had grown 
very serious. 

‘‘ Oh, no ! " she said. ‘‘ Men play at being in love ; 
it is only women who die because their hearts are 
broken." 


ROBIN. 


57 


What is it that women die of ? ’’ asked Mr. Veri- 
ker, whose drowsy ear had been caught by this last 
sentence. 

Of colds, through being kept waiting at open win- 
dows while their fathers pretend to be sleeping,’’ she 
answered promptly. 

Then come on down with you — do,” and he jumped 
up and shook himself, adding gaily, ‘‘ I’m good for a 
cup of coffee and a seat at the Giardino Reale, to listen 
to the music, while you and Christopher take a turn 
among the people ; he’s dying to find out if there are 
any women worth looking at, I can see.” 

So together the three — Mr. Veriker in the middle, 
with an arm through each of theirs — made their way 
across the Piazza in the direction of the Caffd Giardino 
Reale. 

You shall drop me at a table, half-way up, if we 
can find one, said Mr. Veriker. ‘‘ I expect it’s pretty 
full by this time, though ; it’s their busiest hour, ten 
o’clock.” 

Robin’s eyes were darted here and there in search of 
the desired seat. Christopher, dazzled by the increased 
display of lights and the crowd of gaily-dressed people, 
felt hopeless ; a dozen chairs might be under his very 
nose and he wouldn’t see them. 

Here you are, papa ! ” exclaimed Robin, indicating 
a seat not too near the bustle of the wonderful pavilion, 
yet close enough to hear the music, and to see the 
throng of passers-by as they promenaded up and down. 

There’s only one man there, and he will be somebody 
for you to talk to.” 

‘‘ Then you two won’t have anything now ? ” said 
Mr. Veriker, arranging his seat. ‘‘ You’re off for a 
turn first, and then you’ll come back here ? All right ; 
I shall be a fixture till you join me ; ” and turning 
to the young Italian who occupied the near chair, 
he made some remark which at once plunged them 
into conversation, so that, when Christopher and 
Robin from a little distance off looked back at him. 


5S 


ROBIN, 


he was laughing and talking, far too engrossed to notice 
them. 

‘‘ Don^t let us go into the middle of all those 
people there,’’ said Christopher. ‘‘ If you don’t mind 
it, I would so much rather look at this than at them ; ” 
and he turned towards the water, and Robin followed 
him. 

With the reaction that had set in at sight of the 
alteration in her father, her spirits had ris'en so that she 
seemed to tread the air. 

‘‘ Do you know, Christopher,” she burst out suddenly, 
‘‘ that I can hardly help throwing my arms round your 
neck, and giving you a great big hug ? Oh, don’t look 
so awfully afraid,” for Christopher’s face betrayed his 
astonishment. I’m not going to do it, but I mean I 
feel as if I could.” 

“ Could you } ” he said, softly. 

‘‘Yes, indeed; and you wouldn’t wonder, either, if 
you had seen how papa was, and how different he is 
since he has seen you. Well, you may guess by my 
crying as I did when I spoke of him to you. It was 
this afternoon he was talking to me, and all at once in 
his face there came a look, oh, so terrible ! I couldn’t 
get it out of my mind. I thought something ” — and a 
shiver supplied the word she dared not name — “ was 
going to happen to him, that something dreadful must 
be the matter with him ; and now,” and she clasped 
her hands joyfully, “ I see it was only my fancy, and 
that what all along — before — I thought the reason is 
true ; he was just moped to death because of having 
nobody to speak to.” 

“ I’m sure I’m very glad I’ve come,” said Christopher, 
heartily. 

“ Yes, but what made you come } What put it first 
into your head ? How did you know where to find us 
out ? I can’t fancy.” 

“ People in business can always find out where any- 
one they want is, through their bankers, you know,” 
said Christopher, evasively ; “ and then, ever since my 
step-mother died, I had it in my mind that when I grew 


ROBIN. 


59 


strong enough and could do as I pleased, I should seek 
you out, and try and get to know you — she often talked 
of you to me ; I used to regret very much the loss of 
that little sister by adoption I was told it was once 
possible I might have had.” 

How strange,” said Robin, thoughtfully, being 
loved and regretted by those one has never seen.” 

“ Ah, if she could have been spared, and you could 
have had her to go to, it would be a blessing indeed,” 
and Christopher sighed. “Almost the last words — 
about anything of this world — she spoke, was to commit 
you to my father^s care. She was very fond of you.” 

They had sat down on a stone seat, and with heads, 
half-turned were looking over the waters far away. 
The moon had newly risen ; the warm haze of the 
summer night hung low ; lights played upon the glassy 
surface ; from beyond came the lapping of a sea that 
knows no rest. 

“ And she was very fond of you, too,” said Robin, 
breaking the silence which had succeeded Christopher’s 
last words. 

“Yes; after your mother died, I believe that you 
and I had the largest share of her heart ; it was that 
which made her talk of you so much to me.” 

“ Then we ought to care a great deal for one another, 
you and I ? ” 

She had turned her face and so had he — they were 
looking with earnest serious gaze the one at the other. 

“ It is what I want,” Christopher said ; and some- 
thing made him add, “ I am a very lonely creature : 
except my father, I have not a soul in the world to care 
for.” 

Robin stretched out her hand. 

“ I know so well what that is,” she said, quickly ; “ it 
is the same with me ; I seem to have such a lot to give, 
and no one to give it to.” 

The words were said so despondingly that Christo- 
pher could but smile, but the smile was not one to 
offend Robin. Before he spoke again, it was half 
reflected in her own face. 


6o 


ROBIN. 


‘‘ Do you think it might become possible in time for 
you to give a little of that — love — affection to me ? 

“ But I think I have given it to you already ; directly 
I saw you I felt certain I should like you, and now I 
am sure I shall — I do/^ 

Christopher gave a little shake to the hand that had 
been put into his. 

“ Then it is a bargain,^’ he said ; ‘‘ from this time we 
are sworn friends, we are to care for each other very 
much.’’ 

Very much,’’ Robin echoed — like brother and 
sister,” she added. 

Like brother and sister,” he repeated ; and if 
there is anything you want, or want to have done, you’ll 
come to me.” 

Robin nodded her head. 

“ And I am to be of service to you as well,” she said 

although I can’t tell how.” 

‘‘ I can,” he answered, looking at her : “ by letting 
me be of service to you, that is the greatest happiness 
you can give me. Make me feel that somebody in the 
world wants me,” and he raised the hand he held as if 
to carry it to his lips ; but before he could do so, 
Robin’s face was leaned towards him. 

‘‘ Not my hand, Christopher,” she said, gravely. 

Kiss me.” 


CHAPTER X. 

That first -evening which the three spent together 
remained all his life fresh in Christopher’s memory ; it 
was an epoch in his existence, the birth of a new life 
in which he was caught by the hand of friendship on 
the one side, and beckoned by the finger of love on the 
other. Years after he could repeat and go over every 
trifling detail that had taken place, and the magic of 
Venice seen by him then, abided with him forever. 

When they got back to their hotel, and Robin had 


kOBuV. 


6t 


left them, Christopher expected that he should hear 
some further explanations, but after two or three 
cursory remarks, which served only to make light of his 
former fears, Mr. Veriker altogether avoided the 
subject. His anxiety relieved, his pains gone, back 
had come his old flow of high spirits, and he rattled on 
from one thing to the other until Christopher had to 
plead that the fatigue of the journey was beginning to 
tell upon him, and that in spite of his inclination to 
stay, he felt it would be wiser to go off to bed. 

“Quite right,’^ said Mr. Veriker, “for I heard by 
what she said at parting that you’ve got your day cut 
out and dried for you to-morrow. Thank heaven ! 
I’ve done with sight seeing ; no more palaces, and 
churches, and galleries for me. I leave to Robin the 
honor of doing cicerone — she’s young and has the 
energy for it.” 

“ And the good-nature, too,” said Christopher, “ only 
I must take care not to let her overtire herself about 
it.” 

“ Oh, no fear of that with a gondola to take you 
where you want to go : besides you mustn’t do too 
much at a time ; there’ll be no need to hurry. Now 
we’ve got you here we don’t mean to let you off under 
a month or two, I can assure you.” 

Christopher shook his head. 

“ I shan’t be able to stay as long as that,” he said, 
“ but already you have made me feel so at home with 
you that I am sure it won’t be for want of inclination.” 

“Then we’re quits, for, by Jove ! to see me now, 
you wouldn’t believe I was the same man I was a few 
hours ago. Depend upon it, it’s best to ha\^e nothing 
to do with those doctoring chaps ; I know I wish I 
hadn’t seen the one I went to. Not that I believe the 
half of what he said, only it isn’t a cheerful idea to 
dwell upon, especially if a fellow happens to feel a bit 
seedy.” 

“ I must say you don’t look very much of an invalid,” 
said Christopher, laughingly — “ not at all what I expect- 
ed from your letter to find you.” 


62 


ROBIN. 


Mr. Veriker was delighted. 

A bit of a humbug then, you think me ? All right ; 
never mind that, so long as it has brought you to us.’’ 

‘‘ Oh, I heartily forgive you. For years it has been 
my wish to see you and Robin. As I was telling her 
this evening, hardly a day passed without my step- 
mother saying something to me about her. With her 
dying breath she spoke of her to my father, telling him 
always to remember that she was the child of her sister, 
and bore the name of Robina.” 

The words seemed to touch Mr. Veriker. He nodded 
his head; but made no answer ; and Christopher think- 
ing it best to accept this as a signal of dissmissal, bade 
him good-night and went off to the room that had been 
prepared for him. 

Once alone, he sat down with some vague idea of 
collecting his thoughts and examining his impressions, 
a task quickly given up as impossible — ears, eyes, im- 
agination, all had run riot. Visions of Robin floated 
before him ; stories and smart sayings of Mr. Veriker 
rang in his ears ; a dozen schemes and fancies filled his 
brain : nothing was to be hoped for that night — his 
senses had become unmanageable and so completely 
beyond his control that he saw his wisest plan would 
be to hurry into bed, and trust to sleep and a night’s 
rest for restoring, in place of this dazed being, the 
sober, matter-of-fact mortal he had up to this present 
time held himself to be. 

Cramped by a continual atmosphere of repression, 
hitherto Christopher had rested ignorant of the capa- 
bilities for enjoyment which he possessed. This tur- 
moil of new emotions, of gaiety and excitement, pro- 
duced a sense of happiness entirely new to him; and 
he slept soundly and awoke refreshed, ready to carry 
out the plans which the night before he and Robin had 
made. 

Those who know Venice will recall the life about to 
open out for Christopher, and such need not be told 
that a week there draws people closer together than 


ROBIN. 63 

years spent under ordinary circumstances in ordinary 
places. 

From mid-day, when at Florian^s, the Quadri, or at 
an old haunt of Mr. Veriker’s on the Riva dei Schiav- 
oni, the three met to breakfast together, they were 
seldom or never apart. 

Each morning, long before Mr. Veriker was up, Rob- 
in and Christopher had started off to visit some church 
, or see some picture. At that early hour busy life had 
not begun to stir, the windows of the palaces were still 
dark, empty gondolas waited at the water-washed stairs 
below. Between the pauses of talk they could hear the 
distant murmur of the sea — the sea that washed upon 
the shores of the Lido — and Robin would strangle at 
its birth a sigh, for was it not there that she and Jack 
had spent so many blissful hours together ? 

At the quay below the Rialto, they would come upon 
the market boats piled up with fruit and greenery; fresh 
from far-off islands in the Lagoon, and dismissing Pao- 
lo, the two would saunter back through the Merceria, 
stopping like children here and there, caught by the 
sight of curious many-colored shells, bright Oriental 
stuffs, trinkets, gems, which soon, if Robin but admired, 
Christopher wanted at once to buy. 

In the afternoon longer expeditions were undertaken. 
Only permit him to remain stretched at his ease on the 
cushions of the gondola, and Mr. Veriker never quar- 
relled at how far he was asked to go — Murano, Torcel- 
lo, Chioggia — it did not matter in the least. 

‘‘ All I bargain for is that we shall want some din- 
ner,^’ he would say, “ so get back in decent time for 
that.’^ 

After dinner, with his coffee, Mr. Veriker liked a 
cigar, and while smoking it, a chat with some chance 
acquaintance who, posted up in the scandal of the 
place, could give him a little idea of what was going 
on around him. Robin, knowing his habits, would 
propose a stroll, and off together she and Christopher 
would go. Perhaps she would talk to him of her 
father, tell him of her past life, the places she had 


64 


ROBm, 


seen, the way they they had lived there — Christopher 
only dropping in a word here and there to keep her 
talking, not caring what she said so long as he might 
listen and look at her. 

When she had taken these walks with Jack, Robin 
had never cared to speak, and if he did not talk there 
would be long silences between them, when instead of 
words, tremulous, half-smothered happy sighs rose to 
her lips ; but with Christopher, as with her father, she 
had the desire to let her tongue run, and on from one 
subject to another it went without thought or care. 

Only, two or three times, suddenly, in the midst, 
while she was yet speaking, a voice, a sound, the scent 
of a flower, the splash of an oar, would come as a 
sudden stab to her, and she would be seized by the 
impulse to run away, far off to some place where alone, 
unseen, she might fling herself down and ease this 
passion of sobs, which lay choking in her throat. How 
should she keep them back ? She could not speak — at 
least not yet ; so, pausing, with dumb-show she would 
bid Christopher look, and he, following her gaze, would 
stand as if rapt in, looking out afar, not seeing the fair 
scene that lay before him there, for his eyes were turned 
within watching the tumult of a most rebellious heart 
which fought and struggled, mocked by a voice which 
asked if its next cry was to be for the moon. 

As distant and far off as seemed that moon which 
sailed above their heads, was any hope Christopher 
had that Robin should ever* be moved to listen to his 
love. In that he never cheated himself ; he knew that 
very soon after he had first seen her, though why, or 
how, or when, it ceased to be his own, he could not 
tell, he had delivered up to Robin every atom of his 
heart — it was hers, solely hers, to stab, to sting, to 
trample on. 

Bitterness to Christopher ! who would willingly have 
endured any pain if but a germ of hope lay hidden in 
it, Robin did none of this ; she simply accepted all 
that she saw he offered her, and taxed his strength to 
its utmost limits by the outspoken, frank affection in 


ROBIN, 


65 


which she sought to pay him back, pleasing herself 
and, as she seemed to think him by constantly recalling 
to his mind that pledge they were under to look upon 
each other as sister and brother. Well ! under that 
subterfuge, so long as it kept him near to be of service 
to her, he would remain ; there would be time and 
enough of sad opportunity, when he got back into the 
dull routine of his solitary life, to face his difficulties, 
take himself in hand, and regain the mastery of self- 
control. Christopher never doubted but that this 
mastery would be his ; he forgot that a great teacher 
has said, ‘‘ Withstand the beginning ; after-remedies 
come too late.’’ 

But blind as Robin was — for eyes closed by love for 
one away ofttimes fail to see love that has drawn near 
— Mr. Veriker suffered from no short-sightedness in 
this matter. It did not take him long before he had 
come to a tolerably correct conclusion as to the turn 
affairs had taken. And how did the knowledge affect 
him 1 — it filled him by turns with satisfaction and 
displeasure : satisfaction inasmuch as Robin married, 
and his anxiety ended, what mattered anything so long 
as she was provided for } And then came the thought 
of how this provision would come about — by ‘‘ that old 
brute’s son” marrying his daughter, and up would leap 
the fire of enmity fanned into flame by a hundred 
bitter memories, until Mr. Veriker in his wrath and 
indignation would swear she had better beg her bread 
— he would rather see her marry anyone — Jack ? — oh, 
a thousand times rather Jack than Christopher, that is, 
so long as Christopher had a father ; but fathers could 
not live for ever, and old Blunt, tough as he was, the 
wrong side of sixty, must drop off some day, and then, 
surely there was nothing for Robin that he could desire 
better. 

She was young, of an age when girls could be 
tempted into taking fancies ; and with as much money 
as she cared for, to spend ; a man who would worship 
her — take her where she liked to go, give her every- 
thing she wanted — what on earth more could any girl 

5 


66 


ROBIN, 


wish for ? And yet, all this and more had been offered 
to her mother! and — God rewarded her I — she had 
flung it aside for his sake, had chosen him, stuck by 
him, given up all to marry him ; and he had broken 
her heart — she had died, they said, of the ruin he had 
brought upon her. 

No 1 no 1 ” he murmured, wiping his eyes, which 
of late were apt to grow dim whenever he dwelt — 
as he often dwelt now, on past ' days and old mem- 
ories ; “ I must try and keep her child from making 
such a sacrifice. I won^t think of Jack, we must 
give him the slip : it won’t do — he’s too much 
what I was, and we’re not worth it, fellows like 
Jack and me.” 

And then in his mind arose a more present diffi- 
culty. 

Suppose anything did chance to happen to him, 
and Jack was written to as soon as he heard of it, if 
he fancied her left alone to get on as best she could, 
he’d be safe to come and see what was going to become 
of her ; and if she’d found a home with the Blunts, or 
with somebody they knew, to have a fellow like Jack 
dropping suddenly down among a strait-laced set would 
never do. 

“ In their respectable eyes it would d — ^ — her as 
completely,” he said, as if she had me constantly at 
her elbow.” 


CHAPTER XL 

Strangely enough, since Christopher’s arrival, 
neither Robin nor Mr. Veriker had once mentioned 
Jack before him. By tacit consent his name was 
avoided, and if in telling a story reference was 
obliged to be made to him, he was spoken of as 
a friend who happened at the time to be one of 
their party. Even to one another they had ceased to 
talk of him, and to the name once familiar — though 


ROBIN. 


67 


it still lay ever on their tongues — they refused 
utterance. 

“ I want papa to forget/’ Robin would say to herself, 
— “ to fancy that I don’t think about Jack — that I don’t 
care for him any more.” 

Poor child ! to have it suspected that she had given 
her love without it being asked or being wanted, 
seemed a terrible humiliation. For if Jack could not 
look on her as anything but a child, that her 
father should still regard her as one was a necessity ; 
and though well she knew that girls sometimes marrieed 
at her age, and that in some experiences she was 
older than many women, still the thought of being 
looked on by those two as forward beyond her years, 
brought blushes to her face, and filled her with shame 
and confusion. 

What a relief it was to feel that Christopher knew 
nothing of this — dear, quiet, sober, matter-of-fact 
Christopher ! With him she could be as free as air 
without any fear of misinterpretation ; she could say 
what she liked, as she pleased ; they could discuss, 
speculate, argue about everything together, more 
especially about love, a theme that somehow always 
came uppermost — led to, Robin believed, by her desires 
— entered on, Christopher feared, by his hopes. Both 
professed great ignorance regarding it, and yet each 
spoke as if from experience — Robin wounding, slaying 
the tender passion with her tongue ; Christopher up- 
holding, pleading for, defending it. 

How often — in after days — Christopher went over 
those walks again, holding a knowledge then which 
shed a light on each discussion. Carried away, he 
would seem to stand on the very spot where the words 
were said ; the surroundings of the scene a cruelly 
faithful memory brought before him. Above, the stars ; 
below, the sea — a forest of gondolas moored round the 
steps close by which they were standing Some- 
times, tempted by the beauty of the night, they would 
step into one of these and be rowed out to San 
Giorgia. 


68 


ROBIN. 


As long as he lived, Christopher never forgot one of 
those evenings, nor the enchantment in which they had 
enthralled him. 

‘‘ Oh, how we shall miss him when he is gone ! 
Robin said over and over again to her father. 

And Mr. Veriker agreed with her. 

Of late more especially for the last ten days or 
so, he had been constantly dwelling on the possibility 
of Robin herself having the desire to care for Christo- 
pher. 

She's got sense enough," he said to himself, “ and, 
it’s my belief, sees that it would be a good thing for 
her — that keeping mum about Jack, never dropping a 
syllable about him, shows to my mind that the wind’s 
in that direction.’’ 

And then he would sigh and premise that it was 
the best thing that could happen, particularly if she 
thought so. Women were odd fish, ’twas of no use men 
trying to fathom them. He had thought she meant 
to break her heart over Jack. ‘‘ Poor old Jack ! ’’ He 
felt quite sorry for him, grew sentimental each time he 
thought of him, un’til a certain day when — happily 
Robin was not with him — a letter was brought to him, 
a letter from Jack, full of reproaches that he had been 
left so long a time without hearing a word about 
them. 

Full of alarm, Mr. Veriker put this letter into his 
pocket. What was the use of upsetting everything 
now ? He rather thought it was his duty to keep silent 
and say nothing about it ; if he showed her what Jack 
had written, how could he tell in what way it would 
affect Robin ? besides, beyond the present there was 
the future to be thought of. 

The reading of that letter had thrown him into a 
state of agitation; one by one his fears began to 
awaken, and with each dull thud of his heart a mourn- 
ful voice repeated: “Jack must be got rid of — Jack 
must be got rid of.’’ 

So with the idea of strengthening his resolution, but 
in reality as a relief to this fit of nervous emotion, he 


ROBIN. 69 

ran his eyes once more over the paper and then tore it 
up into atoms, which he threw away. 

Perhaps the consciousness of this deception disposed 
Mr. Veriker to be the whole of the ensuing day more 
than usually critical with Christopher, so that, strive as 
he might, he could not help comparing everything he 
said or did with what Jack would have said or would 
have done in similar circumstances. 

It had been arranged that the afternoon should be 
devoted to visiting Murano. The weather was per- 
fect : an opal sky, an azure sea, with a filmy mist 
which softened without obscuring all it fell upon. 
Never before had Christopher felt himself so entirely 
under the influence of this external beauty ; it seemed 
to enslave his imagination, to attack his senses so that 
he became absent and dreamy ; and Robin, noticing 
his humor, began to twit him on his idleness and want 
of energy. 

Assisted by her father, soon a dozen openings 
were given, each of which a more ready man would 
have seized on as an opportunity for furthering his 
suit ; but for two reasons Christopher said nothing 
to the purpose — in the first place, the gift of ready 
speech had been denied him ; in the second, his feel- 
ings were too earnest to find outlet in froth. Shal- 
low waters run their course noisily ; deep rivers flow 
silently. 

To gauge Christopher, therefore, was beyond the 
depth of Mr. VerikePs power : remembering his own 
successes, his theory was that women as a rule give 
their love to those best practised in the art of winning 
it. What was the good of sitting mum and saying 
nothing ? — a beggar that is dumb, you know. 

“ Ah, yes ! he said to himself, “ a beggar that is 
dumb ; but this dumb beggar had eyes to look out of, 
not to see with, which is about all the use poor Chris- 
topher can make of his.’’ 

And this led him to a mental survey of Jack’s face, 
which had always been a puzzle to him inasmuch as he 


70 


ROBIN, 


knew, that so far as actual good looks went, his own 
beat it. 

But for real downright mischief,” he mused reflect- 
ively, “ upon my life Td back Jack’s phisog against 
any other ; ” and without altering his position or letting 
his eyes wander to where Christopher and Robin were 
sitting, he conjured up the two he had so often seen 
there together — remembered how his weak nature had 
made him go back with Paolo so that he might avoid 
the embarrassment of feeling he ought to look after 
them. 

A side-glance stolen at Robin showed him a head 
drooped, a face dreamy with a shadowed sadness in the 
far-off gaze of eyes which smote his heart heavily 
within him. Was it of Jack she was thinking? Poor 
child, why had he not looked after them better ? Surely 
it might have struck any man who knew Jack as he 
did, that it was the right thing to do. And then, as 
a salve to the course he had now taken, came the 
probability that a thousand to one, in spite of all that 
he had written, by this time Jack had found friends 
and was in the way of soon being caught by new 
faces. 

Times out of number when Robin was in pinafores, 
he had known Jack in love — furiously smitten, worked 
up to the white heat of passion, so that all his friends 
were betting on the fool he was about to make of him- 
self ; and in the very thick of it all, some fine morning, 
everybody awoke to learn that Jack was gone — had left 
the place, nobody, his inamorata included, able to guess 
for where, or for what earthly reason. Everyone had 
some conjecture to hazard, but it never occurred to any 
one and certainly not to Mr. Veriker, to be within a 
mile of the truth, which generally was, that at a certain 
point of sliding Jack had suddenly pulled himself up, 
looked temptation in the face, and in the battle which 
ensued had come off so far conqueror that he had 
strength left to run away from his danger. 

It was this habit that had stood him in good stead 
when he had made up his mind concerning Robin, 


ROBIN. 


71 


with the difference that in place of striving to rid him- 
self of every recollection, Jack carried away Robin’s 
face enshrined in his inmost heart. The knowledge 
that she loved him he treasured as a talisman to help 
him to get on, and to protect him from evil. 

Bless her ! bless her ! ” he would say, pressing to 
his lips an old faded photograph taken in the early 
days when Robin wore short petticoats and her hair 
hung loose down her back. Below in crooked, cramped 
letters she had written then, Your own, your very 
own, Robin.” 

And so she is still ! ” Jack would tell himself tri- 
umphantly. ‘‘ I don’t believe it has ever entered her 
head to give a single thought to any other man.” 

The result of Jack’s past made this certainty score a 
great deal for Robin, and then absence, occupation, a 
strange place, with not a creature he knew, all helped 
to fan a flame which, under other circumstances or else- 
where, might by this time have flickered very low. 
Jack had always been a bad correspondent, and unless 
one wanted something or the other, during any of the 
times they had been apart, very few letters had passed 
between him and the Verikers. Now, much as he would 
have liked to write and hear from Robin, the same 
sense of honor which had closed his lips fettered his 
pen ; to write to her the everyday commonplace letter 
of a friend was impossible, and by her silence he 
judged that she was under the same influence. But 
this feeling had nothing to do with Mr. Veriker, whom 
Jack anathematized from the free vocabulary as the 
most selfish, the laziest fellow the earth contained. Oh, 
if he only had him near ! for words easy to say have 
an ugly look on paper, and Jack had to content himself 
by a somewhat curt epistle, asking in straightforward 
English to be informed what they were about, where 
they were going, and what they were meaning to do, 
and it was this very letter which, reaching Mr. Veriker, 
had caused him such perplexity. 

More than a week had gone by since he had received 
it, and so far nothing was done. Every morning he 


72 


ROBIN. 


awoke with the determination to write to Jack, but the 
day passed and the night came, and he went to bed 
again not having done it. 

Happily for his decision, it was at length in a way 
forced by a conversation with Christopher, in which he 
related with much satisfaction certain portions of a let- 
ter received by him that morning from his father. Mr. 
Blunt acknowledged himself very satisfied with the re- 
ports which had been given him ; he asked question 
after question regarding Robin, and he particularly de- 
sired, as he wished to see what she was like that Chris- 
topher should bring back a photograph of her. There 
seemed no doubt, then, but that when she needed it — 
and a terrible conviction was forced on him that need 
it soon she would — a home with these relations would 
be offered her; and if so. Jack must be got rid of, put 
altogether off their scent — and the sooner it was done 
the better. 

The following day Mr. Veriker excused himself from 
the afternoon expedition. Under the plea of lying down 
to get some rest he would secure the opportunity of 
writing Jack a letter. 

The paper lay upon the table, the pen was in his 
hand, only the words to say were not ready. 

The poor battered conscience which had slept undis- 
turbedly through many a doubtful transaction was sud- 
denly up in arms, and Mr. Veriker lacked all heart to 
quiet it. 

Until now, it had not come to him how much he 
cared for Jack — valued his good opinion — enjoyed his 
fellowship ; and he was going to fling all these away, 
cut himself off from him altogether. Already his 
memory had traveled back to bygone days ; he was go- 
ing through past scenes — remembering forgotten debts, 
old obligations. It was true that Jack had a habit of 
saying hard things, and at times made one feel a terri- 
ble rough tongue of his own, but for sticking to his word 
and never sneaking out of it if things went wrong, he 
hadn^t his fellow. 

The afternoon had slipped away, but Mr, Veriker 


ROBIN, 


73 


was but very little advanced with his letter, and yet it 
must be written ; for Robin’s sake he must make the 
sacrifice, it was the only amends he could make her. 
So with as much jauntiness as he could find expression 
for, he informed Jack that he felt wonderfully better, 
but not so well as he yet meant to be when they found 
a place with more sun, and fewer people from their own 
country. 

‘‘ It’s up stick, and away now from Venice ; so until 
we find another resting-place you won’t hear from us. 
I have the address you left to write to in case of neces- 
sity, but there’s little fear but you will get some news 
of us before you move from where you’re now hanging 
out.” 

Then followed a rhodomontade respecting his health 
and his hopes of speedily getting quite well again, an 
invented message or two from Robin, and he signed his 
name and it was finished. 

Sealed and directed, he sat with it in his hand, with 
his eyes, looking straight before him, fixed on vacancy. 
Suddenly he buried his face in his arms. Even when 
alone men seek to hide their tears, and this treachery 
to Jack seemed the warrant of his own death — in cast- 
ing him off he was giving up his last lingering hopes of 
life. 


CHAPTER XII. 

It was Christopher’s last evening in Venice ; he was 
to start the next day, and he and Robin and Mr. Veri- 
ker were full of those promises, agreements, stipula- 
tions which friends at parting make together. 

Each had some confidence to impart, something par- 
ticular to say — best said when only one was with the 
other; and, in consequence, a series of stratagems 
were resorted to, and kept up on Mr. Veriker’s part to 
get rid of Robin, and in the case of Robin and Chris- 
topher to get rid of Mr Vcriker. In this the two latter 


74 


ROBIN. 


had just succeeded. Christopher wanted to have a last 
look of sunset from the public gardens, and he had 
asked Robin to go with him there. 

We won’t include you,” he said to Mr. Veriker, 

because it might make you feel tired, and you and I 
will want to have our talk later.” 

In the Via Garibaldi, as is usual, a crowd of loiterers 
were looking in at the shop-windows, before which 
neither Christopher nor Robin cared to linger. They 
walked briskly, talking of indifferent subjects until 
they reached the entrance of the gardens, which, except 
for a few old men and some women clustered together, 
were deserted. 

Shall we go to the end — to our favorite seat ? ” 
asked Robin, leading the way. 

Christopher followed her — he was full of that dumb 
pain which hangs on our spirits and is a weight on our 
tongues ; he wanted Robin to know how much he suf- 
fered at parting with her, and he could find no words 
in which to tell her. 

The seat reached — a tumble-down affair backed by 
some thick feathery tamarisk trees — they sat down, and 
for some time, without speaking, watched the ‘‘ orb’s 
departing glory.” Robin’s thoughts ran on many 
things ; Christopher’s on one. Dare he venture to 
take her hand 1 Almost fearing to meet her look, he 
took it. Startled, Robin turned quickly round, but 
only to smile at him encouragingly, and clasp the 
palm which trembled next her own, A lump of lead 
seemed to sink within Christopher ; with quick pressure 
he took his hand away. What a terrible jar to love is 
mere affection ! 

Jewelled with islands, there, spread out before them, 
lay the golden sea, girt around with outlined chain of 
snowy peaks. The fishing boats, with orange sails, 
were dotted here and there waiting for the wind, a gen- 
tle breeze of which already was being wafted from 
afar. 

“ Robin ! ” Christopher in desperation at length ex- 
claimed, you’ll think of me sometimes, won’t you ? ” 


ROBm. 


75 


Her thoughts had wandered off to Jack. It was he 
who had taught her to feel the beauty of a scene like 
this. 

‘‘ Think of you ! Yes ! rousing herself, ‘‘ and very 
often too.’’ 

That’s right ” — how his sentences seemed jerked 
out to-night ; his heart kept up such a thudding that he 
had no breath to give his speech the measure it usu- 
ally had. ‘‘ And whatever you want in any way you’re 
to write to me — you remember that ? ” 

‘‘ I’m not likely to forget,” and she smiled sadly, 
“ considering I have no one in the world who cares to 
be of use to me — but you.” 

Should he tell her ? It was madness, he knew, but 
yet, oh, the sick longing that came into his heart ! In- 
voluntarily he shut his eyes, opening them to find Robin 
looking at him. 

‘‘ The glare dazzles you,” she said. 

Alas ! instead of the despair which Jack would have 
called up to his aid, Christopher’s face showed nothing 
but that his eyes were weak and filled with water. 

‘‘ I ought not to look at the sun,” he said bitterly, 
and he put up his hand and pressed his fingers tight, 
striving to keep back that current which was sapping 
all his strength. 

Futile ! vain ! hopeless ! none knew better than 
himself, were any words which he might now say — 
Robin did not love him, in that never for a moment 
had he been deceived ; his deception lay in the belief 
that as yet she did not know love, and in the cherished 
hope that at some distant, far off day to come, it might 
be his to teach the lesson. And nurturing this hope, 
fed by a thousand specious arguments, Christopher 
would conjure up his own image, scan his appearance 
examine into his advantages, trying to discover if he 
possessed one single merit that could prove a lure by 
which the heart he coveted might be caught. He, too, 
had a photograph of Robin to look at — the one lately 
taken at Viacelli’s to show to his father — and in his 
own room, when alone, he would take it from out its 


76 


ROBIN, 


many coverings, and hold it before him, feasting his 
eyes. Fool ! madman ! that he was — ever to dream 
that she could be won by him. 

For Robin, without possessing the gift of rare beauty 
had a face which steals away men’s hearts : there was 
in it a mixture of childlike innocence and daring sauci- 
ness — she could look tears and smile sunshine. Then 
her light-heartedness and gaiety of disposition, inheri- 
ted from her father, were a species of subtle intoxica- 
tion far removed from the effect of high spirits, which 
she did not possess, and which when not shared in 
makes companions sad. Robin had rather the art of 
adapting herself to every one’s humor, and while doing 
so the power of gradually imparting to them her 
own. 

The opportunity of making girl-friends had never 
been given her. Mr. Veriker had kept aloof from the 
society of women ; it was a tribute to the love in which 
he held his wife’s memory, that, being in the prime of 
life and very handsome, he pointedly avoided seeking 
any feminine intimacy. Those who had the hardihood 
to disregard this avoidance and to thrust themselves on 
him, he protected his daughter from, and — as when- 
ever Jack was with them he had a worthy coadjutor in 
him — the world of women was a terra incog^iita to 
Robin. Was it from this reason that she was so utterly 
devoid of the small — the petty — weaknesses common to 
many of her sex ? She knew that she was pretty, and 
openly showed the pleasure she took in the fact ; but 
of vanity — in its true meaning — she had none. Candid, 
frank, open, the girl with good training might have been 
perfect ; as it was left to run wild with no pruning, she 
lacked many of those moral conditions without which 
no character can be duly balanced. 

It must not be supposed that Christopher was blind 
to the faults he saw in her, neither could he turn a deaf 
ear to some things which pained him inexpressibly. 
Careful as Mr. Veriker strove to be, and anxious as he 
was to appear at his best before Christopher, as a fig 
tree cannot bring forth thistles, nor a grape thorns, 


ROBIN. 


77 


neither can a man whose morality is easy call up vir- 
tues to assume at will. Mr. Veriker would talk of 
doubtful people to Robin ; tell stories before her, at 
which Christopher — who had given her wings — would 
feel his hair stand on end, and — severest shock of all 
— his angel would supply names, jog her father^s mem- 
ory, and help out his recollections. 

When Jack was with them Robin suffered from many 
a sharp rebuke from him, and had often been told to 
hold her tongue ; but much as it pained Christopher, 
he felt powerless to speak — the evil seemed rooted so 
much deeper down to him. It had its origin in the life 
she led, the places she saw ; and apart from his love, 
he was possessed by a great longing to rescue her from 
this, to guide her by a teaching of which she knew noth- 
ing ; for of many truths, the heathen in a savage land 
had as much knowledge as poor Robin. And the same 
compassion — although in a lesser degree — he spread 
out towards Mr. Veriker, with whom Christopher never 
talked without realizing how impotent words are when, 
to those we say them to they bear no meaning. 

Mr. Veriker’s sole anxiety as to death was that he 
had to leave Robin. “ I’m afraid I must make up my 
mind to throw up my hand,” he would say, ‘‘ and there, 
so far as I’ve found out, will be an end of the game — 
and of me.” Then, seeing that Christopher looked 
pained, he would add by way of consolation, ‘‘ You talk 
to Robin about that, my good fellow; make her listen 
to what you’ve been telling me — women are ever so 
much easier to convince about that sort of thing than 
men are.” 

It never seemed to present itself to Mr. Veriker that 
Christopher was a man — most certainly he never re- 
garded him as one ; he rather looked on him as some 
strange anomaly, some unaccountable being, possess- 
ing a pot of money, and not an idea of enjoying it ! — 
except in spending it on him and Robin, and that cer- 
tainly he had done freely enough since he had been 
there ; he was never tired of bringing them gifts, antic- 
ipating their wishes^ providing them with pleasures. 


78 


ROBIN, 


They had lived as much as was possible en prince since 
Christopher had come to Venice. 

Alluding to something which she was to do — in the 
conversation which ensued that evening in the public 
gardens — Robin said ; 

‘‘ But we shall have to draw in our horns when you 
are gone : we couldn’t afford to do by ourselves what 
we have done while you have been with us.” 

^‘Afford!” said Christopher reprovingly; “ why do 
you pain me by making me repeat the same thing again 
and again to you, Robin ? What good is there in calling 
myself your brother, if yon will not give me the privi- 
leges of one ? ” 

Either his tone or manner seemed to trouble her ; 
she shot a quick glance at him. 

“ Give ! ” she said, with a smile and shake of her 
head ; “ you have done nothing else but give from the 
first minute we saw you. I don’t know how we shall 
ever^ repay you, Christopher.” 

“ By consenting to come to England, you could.” 

And give up Jack for ever! That was what her sigh 
meant. 

“ It’s not possible ? ” he asked anxiously, looking at 
her ; ‘‘ you wouldn’t like it } ” The little sigh had not 
escaped his ear. 

Oh, I don’t think I should mind. The question is, 
how would our fathers agree ? ” 

With the knowledge he had of Mr. Veriker’s health, 
Christopher hardly knew what to reply. Mr. Blunt 
had at all times an ungovernable temper, and he regarded 
it a privilege of his prosperity that he was not called 
upon to restrain himself for anyone. At any moment 
an outburst of passion might be fatal to Mr. Veriker ; 
and the two men together, how soon cause might be 
given for that to come, no one who knew them both 
could say. 

“ Agree } ” he said, as if he had been considering 
the matter ; “ perhaps better now that they are both 
older.” 

Robin smiled. 


ROBIN. 


79 


I don’t know that — age seldom improves tempers, 
I fancy.” 

“ I am sure you would get on with my father,” 
Christopher began. 

“ You think so — I wonder, should I } ” 

‘‘ Yes ; I am sure you would, and with everybody 
about too, and that is why he wants to know the neigh- 
bors better than we do.” 

“ Would there be girls among the neighbors to know ? ” 
Some there are.” 

Nice girls ? ” 

I think so.” 

Pretty?” 

I believe they are thought so.” 

Haven’t you seen them, then ? ” 

Many times I’ve seen them.” 

And yet don’t know what they are to look at, 
whether they are pretty or not.” Robin laughed softly : 

When they ask you about me, Christopher what are 
you going to say ? ” 

‘‘ They won’t ask me,” he stammered, 

Oh ! if she conld but read his thoughts, and learn 
from them what he wanted to say. 

“ But your father will ask you ? ” 

I have your photograph to show.” 

“ And you think that does me justice ? ” and the 
look of mischief she turned on him was beyond the 
art of photography to portray. Oh, Christopher, you 
are not given to flattery, that I must say.” 

‘‘ Would you like me to flatter you ? ” he managed to 
ask. 

‘‘ No, I should like you to tell me the truth,” and she 
smiled saucily. 

The truth, Robin,” he said, and his voice almost 
died away. 

Was it the return of that vague fear which made her 
interrupt him, and quickly cry : 

“ But I am wasting our last evening in nonsense, for- 
getting how far away this time to-morrow you will be, 


8o 


ROBIN. 


and the hundred things I shall remember then that I 
have forgotten to say to you now.’^ 

“ Never mind,” and Christopher drew a long breath, 
‘‘ what you forget ” — his decision was taken : he wouldnh 
risk a longer stay — if you will keep your promise not to 
forget me.” 


CHAPTER XIIL 

Mr. Veriker was the victim of two states of feeling. 
When he was tolerably well, and the chances seemed re- 
mote as to when it might occur, he could — to anyone 
but Robin — talk of his death as probably near. The 
instant any cause brought back symptoms he had been 
told to fear, though his life had depended on it, he 
could not have approached the subject. The very 
thought that anyone about him suspected his dread was 
sufficient to aggravate his pain, and distress his 
breathing. Unconsciously the prompting of many 
things he had to say to Christopher was the supposition 
that they might never meet again, and the continued 
repetition of the thought became oppressive to him — it 
acted on his nerves and made them sensitive and 
irritable. 

While Robin and Christopher were absent at the 
gardens, he had been annoyed by some trifling incident 
which had gone wrong in the hotel. At another time 
he would have passed it over ; now he believed it had 
been done purposely to aggravate him. He tried to 
make light of it on their return, and Robin, skilled in 
the art of soothing disaster, hoped when they set off to 
dine that he had got over it. The dinner — as is often 
the case when no one feels particularly cheerful, and 
everyone is bent on seeming so — was rather a dull 
affair. Another party had secured Erasmo, and the 
waiter they had was a fresh man who did not know 
anything about them ; the dishes were ill made, had 
been kept waiting ; the wine, “ nothing like what they 
had usually,” did not go well with them. Like most 


ROBIN. 


8i 


brilliant, fascinating people, when Mr. Veriker was dis- 
posed to find fault nothing satisfied him. 

I don’t think he is well,” said Robin in an under- 
tone to Christopher. They had finished their dinner 
and were crossing over to Florian’s for coffee and 
ices. 

“ You ask me how he feels — he does not like me to 
notice him.” 

“ Feel all right } ” said Christopher, with pointed 
inquiry — they had found a table and were waiting for 
chairs. 

Right ! ” — Mr. Veriker’s tone implied what in heav- 
en’s name should make any one ask him if he felt right — 
“ as a trivet,” he said ; ‘‘ that is, as right as any one 
can feel who has had to eat the most abominable din- 
ner served to mortal man. Whew ! ” he said, in a voice 
which scared the very senses out of a flower girl, and 
an urchin with matches who had come up close, in 
prospect of a customer ; I should like to have on the 
end of a fork the heart of the wretch who cooked 
it.” 

‘‘ Papa, you have scarified these two poor creatures. 
Hist ! — Hist ! — come here,” she called in Italian. 
‘‘ Christopher, buy something of them — I’ll pick you out 
a button hole. Which do you like, pink or red ? Oh ! 
here’s some orange-blossom — ^you’ll have that, won’t 
you } ” 

‘‘ What does it mean ? ” Christopher asked. 

Oh nothing that you need be afraid of ; on the 
contrary, you will be for ever safe from me ; you 
never marry the person to whom you give orange- 
blossoms.” 

She had taken hold of his coat — the little bouquet 
was in her hand : Christopher snatched it from her and 
threw it again into the basket. 

‘‘ Give me a pink one,” he said ; “ that oleander will 
do.” 

And not the orange blossoms ? Oh, well, I will 
have it myself, then ! ” 

‘‘ I won’t pay for it if you do.” 

6 


82 


ROBIN. 


‘‘ How disgustingly mean of you ! Papa, give me 
some money ; I haven’t any, and Christopher won’t buy 
a bouquet for me.” 

I haven’t got any,” said Mr. Veriker, ‘‘ since 
Christopher has been with us I haven’t carried any, on 
principle.” 

Robin turned and said something in Italian to the 
girl. 

“ She’ll trust me, she says.” 

All right,” replied Christopher, “ let her; I don’t 
care how you get it, as long as you can’t say I gave it 
to you.” 

This little episode, which at another time would 
have provoked Mr. Veriker’s good-humor, only now 
increased his discontent. 

“What’s the good,” he thought, “of his plucking up 
courage now? that’s the sort of thing he ought to have 
begun a week ago, not have waited until just as he was 
on the verge of starting. I’m sure he has had oppor- 
tunities enough, but he has made nothing of them. If 
that had been Jack, now — pshaw ! ” 

Mr. Veriker’s imagination failed him to think to 
what point, under similar circumstances. Jack would 
have reached by this time. Since the departure of that 
letter his regrets for the friend he had cast himself off 
from had been never-ending. With no hope of their 
meeting again. Jack had been exalted to a height of 
perfection he had never attained before ; and when- 
ever, and of late he had frequently done so — he 
compared him with Christopher, Mr. Veriker was 
disposed to consider that in his daughter’s interest he 
had made himself a martyr. 

“ We none of us want to be late to-night, do we ? ” 
said Robin, interrupting this reverie of her father’s. 

“ I don’t,” he said ; “ but I suppose you and Chris- 
topher will want to go off presently and have your 
stroll by the water. Hist ! ” he called to a man in the 
distance with newspapers, “ which of those fellows is it 
— can you see, Robin ? Not that it much matters. 1 
don’t expect one of them has got a Figaro'^ 


ROBIN, 


83 


“ If not, we will go and try and get you one/' 

“ Rubbish, child, get me one ! If I can't have the 
Figaro^ I shall do well enough with something else. 
Be off, the two of you, and have your walk, and then 
there’ll be some chance of getting home in decent time 
to-night." 

Robin looked at him uneasily ; all the old signs of 
worry had come back ; he sighed, stretched himself 
out, altered his position restlessly, pushed back any- 
thing that happened to be near, moved his chair if 
people came close to him. 

“ We’re not thinking of going to-night," she began. 
“ Christopher and I have said all we want to say to 
each other. We want to be all three together for the 
last time, don’t we, Christopher ? " 

Oppressed, perhaps, by the compliment paid him, 
Mr. Veriker suddenly shifted himself on his seat, a 
chair near him lost its balance, and in its fall knocked 
against the arm of a waiter, who attending to anything 
but the tray of glasses he carelessly held, down they 
went with a clatter which made everybody near jump 
up, thus affording an opportunity for Mr. Veriker to 
rid himself of the burst of expletives that were boiling 
over against Christopher. 

This threatening of the old trouble, which for more 
than a month now had seemed gone forever, had 
brought back all his anxiety about Robin's future. He 
wanted to feel assured that it was securely settled, and 
he was seized on by the idea that this would be done if 
Christopher spoke to her. In a conversation of a few 
nights before the subject had been lightly touched 
on between them ; but at that time Mr. Veriker, in 
capital spirits — after a pleasant day and an excellent 
dinner — saw no reason to hurry matters. Youug girls, 
he said — generalizing — seldom know their own minds, 
and often it was not till until they had missed a man 
that it ever occured to them how much they had cared 
for him. He did not know that one succeeded any the 
better for being too pressing in such cases. His 


84 


ROBIN, 


advice would be, leave a little for absence to do — that 
and time work wonders. 

Even to Mr. Veriker, Christopher had not in plain 
words admitted the feeling he was inspired with for 
Robin, but yielding to the encouragement to confidence, 
and assured of the knowledge he possessed, he had 
permitted himself to find an outlet in those vague 
discussions which, without naming, bear reference to 
our individual affections. With all his art and tact, it 
was impossible for Mr. Veriker to assume sympathy 
with feelings he knew nothing of, and it therefore 
frequently happened that at the very moment when 
Christopher was about to make a clean breast of 
his love, a word, a doubtful joke would make him draw 
back his confidence, and lock it tight up again. 

On this last evening, however, he had made up his 
mind to speak more openly. One reason for his pre- 
vious silence had been the fear of Mr. Veriker making 
inopportune allusions to his ' state of feeling ; his 
departure would render this impossible, therefore he 
might reasonably tell him of that hope he nourished of 
making Robin at some future time care for him. It 
would be an opportunity to convince him of the interest 
he had in her, and a pledge of assurance that in case 
her father was taken from her she would still have a 
protector left. Christopher was much occupied with 
all he meant to say — the matter of his speech and how 
he should best arrange his words made him thoughtful 
and absent. That he was able to keep under that pain 
of parting, and to think of others rather than himself, 
was but in keeping with his character. Robin, more 
than usually anxious, spoke only by fits and starts, the 
wrong twist which everything that evening had taken 
seemed to have upset her. 

Mr. Veriker seizing on any occasion to find fault, 
declared, rising, that he couldn’t stand the two of them 
any longer. 

‘‘ Mutes at a funeral would be cheerful to you,” he 
said ; “ we’d best go in — another hour of this sort of 


ROBIN. 85 

thing/’ and he gave a most obtrusive shudder, would 
make me ready to throw myself in the canal yonder.” 

Robin jumped up ; Christopher followed. 

“ You’re anxious, I’m afraid he said, softly. 

‘‘ A little — I was hoping it was all past and gone — he 
seemed so much better.” 

‘‘ So I hope he will be again to-morrow.” 

‘‘ I am so sorry you are going, Christopher.” 

Because she was speaking in a whisper, to emphasize 
her words, she stretched out her hand towards him. 
He took it — the little warm palm lay next to his — why 
should he not carry it to his lips and cover it with 
kisses — kisses that must surely tell her what he was 
longing to utter. No, no ; there were so many people 
about, near enough to see, close enough to listen to 
them — it would never do — so he only tightened his 
hold of her hand as he said, bending down : 

Sorry are you, Robin — tell me — why ? ” 

Because he has been so well ever since you came 
here,” she answered simply. 

Did the girl guess the pain sh^ was giving ? Was it 
the desire to wound which made her answer so ? 

Love is very cruel to love, and the heart which has 
given itself to another is often hedged about by thorns 
ready to make all who come too near bleed and suffer. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The next day Christopher left Venice. He started 
at an early hour before the morning haze had cleared 
away, and by the time the train reached the end of that 
long bridge which crosses the Lagune, every trace of 
the city had vanished. 

Fortunately, as he considered it, he had the carriage 
to himself, and could move about as he pleased, and do 
as he liked, without disturbing any one. He had said 
good-bye to Mr. Veriker at the hotel ; had parted with 
Robin at the railway station ; and as the line of towers 


86 


ROBIN. 


and spires on which his eyes remained fixed became 
faint, obscured, and now blotted out altogether, he 
asked. Was it all a dream, a vision that had passed 
away and was over ? Should he wake up presently to 
find himself the Christopher he had been — aimless, 
purposeless, with no settled interest in life — the round 
man in the square hole ? No, thank God ! that was 
not likely, what ever might come of this visit, and the 
presentiment was strong in him that the result would be 
more of pain than pleasure, it had had the effect of 
lifting him out of himself — had tried his strength, and 
tested his capabilities, made him know how little he 
could do, and alas ! feel how much he could suffer. 

There had been very few words exchanged between 
him and Robin that morning, and certainly not a 
whisper of love had passed between them, and yet 
Christopher felt she was nearer to him, that in some 
way she had herself drawn closer. Would the words 
Mr. Veriker had said come to pass ? Was it true that 
sometimes not until the hour of parting was love dis- 
covered ? Christopher would not cheat himself so far 
as that, but the tremulous allusions to good-byes, the 
regretful eyes that looked farewell, lit up within his 
breast the torch of hope. 

“ In time, in time,’’ a voice within went singing. 
Nurtured by tenderness, strengthened by devotion, 
might not the tiny germ spread out into fair blossom 
yet ? Christopher’s heart swelled at the bare supposi- 
tion — the craving for love had grown so strong in him 
that he caught at, and clung to, each straw of promise, 
finding great comfort in the fact of Robin’s youth, her 
jesting talk and utter disbelief in love, and in all that 
was advanced in proof of man’s devotion. That showed 
— so Christopher argued — that her heart was yet un- 
touched ; she could not jest at scars if she had felt a 
wound, and in all the conversations he had had with 
her and her father, there had never been a mention 
made of any one whom by any possibility he could turn 
into a rival. Mr. Veriker — as well as Robin — had been 
very frank in all he had told him about their past life, 


ROBIN. 


87 


describing, with that happy knack he had, their sur- 
roundings and associates, so that for the time Christo- 
pher saw both the place and the people. 

It had so happened that during the journey to the 
railway station, notwithstanding it was his last morning 
with Robin, at least for some time — and how often for 
some time means for ever — Christopher’s thoughts ran 
mostly on Mr. Veriker. Perhaps Robin guessed as 
much, for, unlike her usual self — pouring out hopes 
and fears — she sat either silent or making some trivial 
remark, but without an allusion to her father, and yet 
she had seen him, had gone up to his room to ask if he 
was not coming down to say good-bye to Christopher, 
as the night before he had announced he meant to do. 

On the previous evening when they got back to the 
hotel, Christopher was prepared for some final commu- 
nications which they had long spoken of having ; but 
though to afford the opportunity Robin left them 
undisturbed, Mr. Veriker had apparently nothing to 
say : at least, he said nothing, until Christopher broach- 
ed the conversation, when suddenly jumping up, he 
declared he must go at once off to bed — he was tired 
out, could not talk then if the whole universe depended 
on it. “ Yes, yes,’’ he knew, he hadn’t forgotten what 
he wanted to say, but it must be said to-morrow, he’d 
get up early, and see Christopher off ; there would be 
time enough before he started for both of them to have 
a talk, and say all they wanted to say to each other. 
So in expectation of his making his appearance, Chris- 
topher had tranquilly waited, until the hour for departure 
drew so dangerously near that Robin volunteered to 
run up to her father’s room, and see if she could not 
hurry his movements. 

Christopher ! ” she called, “ Christopher ? you are 
to come up here : he is not going to the station, he is 
not well this morning.” 

Conversant by this time with the self-indulgent habits 
of Mr. Veriker, and his rooted dislike to early rising, 
Christopher was beginning to twit him, when at sight 
of the altered face, pinched and pain-drawn, he stopped. 


88 


ROBIN, 


Since the first dawn of early day, when — awakening 
from unrefreshing sleep — Mr. Veriker had remembered 
that Christopher was going, he had been screwing up 
courage to send for him. Now that he had put it off 
until there was but a moment or so to spare, he could 
only feebly grasp the hand put into his without having 
strength to utter a word, but the look he gave, oh, how 
it haunted Christopher — he could not rid himself of it, 
it seemed to come between him and everything he 
turned his eyes upon ; and if for a moment his thoughts 
went off elsewhere, the memory of that drawn face and 
those despairing eyes beckoned them back, and stirred 
him with new regrets. 

It was quite a relief to him that Robin did not ques- 
tion him, and that when he came down they had to 
hurry off the steps, making no remark to each other 
but such as related to the things he had to carry and 
how pressed he was for time. He hardly dare look at 
her, fearing she should discover the trouble in his face 
— trouble which sprang from reproach, that he had 
made so little of his opportunities in trying to influence 
the poor fellow he had just left. 

To a serious contemplative mind like Christopher’s, 
there had always been something very terrible in the 
flippancy displayed by Mr. Veriker regarding his state 
— to be judged leniently because he could but acknowl- 
edge the magic that that gay humor exercised upon 
himself, so completely carrying him away that at 
moments when he had resolved to be most earnest, his 
gravest thoughts had been swept off in its whirlwind of 
fun and frolic. 

Up to the previous evening he had hardly realized 
that a frown could abide on that smiling face, or that 
ill-temper could more than brush past that careless 
genial disposition. Now — this morning — another door 
had been unlocked for him, and without a word of 
warning the skeleton which hitherto Mr. Veriker had 
hidden out of sight had been shown to him. 

There were no doubts now in Christopher’s mind as 
to the reasons which had prompted that first letter — it 


ROBIN. 


89 


had not only been written by a dying man, but by a 
man who knew that he was dying ; and recalling the 
jests made over doctors’ mistakes, the laughter indulged 
in at their cautions and croaking, Christopher was filled 
with unutterable sadness, for he saw plainly now that 
all this talk was but a subterfuge to conceal the dread 
reality. 

‘‘ Can it have anything to do with your going away ? ” 
Robin said abruptly. 

They had reached the station, she and Christopher 
were standing on the platform together, and his thoughts 
had traveled back to the short time since, when on that 
very spot, the two had stood side by side, strangers to 
one another. 

He looked at her questioningly, his ear had not 
quite caught what she said — they had not been speaking 
of Mr. Veriker. 

You thought he looked ill, didn’t you, this morn- 
ning } ” 

I did not think he seemed at all well last night,” 
Christopher answered evasively. 

Robin took hold of his hand and held it tightly in 
her own ; she said nothing, but her face, half averted 
from Christopher, told him the distress she was con- 
trolling. 

“But you know,” he said soothingly, “that I am 
very often ill myself.” 

“ Yes ? ” and she drew nearer, as if finding sympathy. 

“ Don’t you remember my telling you that at home 
for weeks together, at times, I am not well 1 ” 

“ And yet you get all right again ? ” 

“ As you see.” 

A smile came into her face. 

“ Oh, Christopher ! ” and in the sigh she gave she 
seemed to find relief, “ why must you go ? Why can’t 
you stay ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” he said, getting into the carriage, for the 
train was on the point of starting, and like many another 
one, just as he was going he felt his courage come, “ if 


90 


ROBIN. 


I could but think you felt so sorry to part with me, as 
I do to say good-bye to you/' 

Was it fear of the carriage moving that made her 
suddenly draw back ? Perhaps having to raise it gave 
her voice that altered tone. 

“ I don’t take it as a good-bye,” she said, but as 
au revoir.^' 

‘‘ What does that mean ; that you are coming to us, 
or am I to return to you ? ” 

Which, would you like ? ” 

Either — both — anything — everything — that would 
keep me with you.” 

The desire to say the words, and the fear of saying 
them — for it seemed as if his meaning must be heard 
in each syllable — made everything before Christopher’s 
eyes dance to and fro ; the carriage gave a jerk which 
sent him forward and back, there was a shrill whistle 
which made him start up to exchange one more look 
with Robin, and they were off — the train was moving, 
he had lost sight of her, and very soon strain to the 
utmost his eyes, as he did, they no longer saw anything 
that could be called Venice. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Mr. Blunt had proposed that his son should 
diversify his journey back from Venice, instead of 
which, Christopher had written to say he was coming 
home direct. A telegram from Paris would announce 
the day and hour of his arrival. 

Now that he had left the Verikers, he was all anxiety 
to see his father, and accustomed to reproach himself 
with want of tact in his usual management of him, 
most of his thoughts ran on how he could act so as 
best to serve his friends. 

Unfortunately for Christopher he had to struggle 
against a terribly sensitive nature, of which his father 
had never been able to form the slightest comprehension. 


ROBIN. 


91 


Blessed with robust health and great bodily strength, 
that inherent delicacy of constitution which gave his 
son nerves and a dozen unexplained ailments, was a 
mystery to Mr. Blunt ; one which he tried to solve by 
every remedy in which he had any curing faith. “ Let 
him get up and eat a good breakfast ’’ — “ Take a ten- 
mile walk ’’ — Put a bottle of good wine into him,’’ 
these were Mr. Blunt’s prescriptions, and after more 
than twenty years of failure, he still went on repeating 
them. 

With the one exception of his late wife, to whom he 
had most discovered his feelings, not a living soul had 
an idea of the sort of idolatry in which Mr. Blunt held 
Christopher — not that Christopher, with whom as an 
individual he had no sympathy, felt no companionship, 
had not a taste in common — but that fruit of his body, 
who bore his name and would inherit his money. Why, 
it was to make him a gentleman that he had toiled and 
labored — on his account that he lived hedged in by 
surroundings from which he drew neither comfort nor 
enjoyment. 

While Mrs. Blunt had lived her good sense and 
influence had prevented the outburst of display in which 
her husband had since indulged. Sensible of his social 
defects, she had taken care to arrange their household 
with a due regard to hide them ; but another rule had 
sway now, and Mr. Blunt sat at his meals in solemn 
state, with a magnificent footman behind his chair, and 
the eye of a solemn butler fixed on him. 

What a curse to many a self-made man are those 
small niceties of behavior, so difficult of practice to 
those who have not been early trained in them — that, 
“ Oh, beg pardon, sir, thought perhaps I hadn’t placed 
you a fork,” was sufficient — feeling his knife was in 
his mouth — to upset Mr. Blunt’s appetite for the most 
tempting dishes. This glass, sir for hock, sir,” and 
the wine had no more flavor than water. 

Why didn’t Christopher get married ? That was 
what Mr. Blunt wanted, then he could come and go 
when he liked, have a home in the country and a little 


92 


ROBIN, 


place in London, where with a few companions of by- 
gone days he could eat as he pleased, drink as he 
liked, talk, make merry, cut jokes, and enjoy himself. 
But to get married, you must go out and seek a wife, 
for though persuaded, as he was, that not a girl in 
Wadpole or the country round but would snap at being 
Mrs. Christopher Blunt — his son’s wife ; yet it was 
expecting too much, that in the first instance they 
should all come running after him. 

‘‘ We want somebody here to look after us,” he 
would say, if at any time chance brought a young lady 
in his way. 

I’m not speaking for m3^self ; I’m too old to try a 

number three, but my son Christopher, there ” 

and he would look at his son, thinking he had made 
an opportunity for him ; but Christopher would take 
no notice, and worse still he would take no notice of 
the lady. 

I don’t know what’s come to young chaps nowa- 
days,” Mr. Blunt had said. “ You haven’t none o’ you 

got what I call the making of men about you don’t 

think of sweetheartin’, nor nothing o’ that kind, it 
seems to me.” 

‘‘ Oh, there’s time enough for me yet.” Christopher 
would reply pacifiically. 

“ Time enough for you ! and what about me, I 
should like to know ; ain’t I to see those that’s coming 
after me. It don’t seem so very much for a father to 
ask of a son to take a wife, so that he may have his 
grandchildren round about his knee.” 

That was Mr. Blunt’s desire, the wish which had 
taken possession of his life, to see his grandchildren — 
to be able to look beyond Christopher and make sure 
that, come what might, there would be those belonging 
to him to have what he must leave behind. The 
knowledge that his son was delicate — although to him- 
self he refused to admit that such was the case — but 
added to his anxiety, and a chief motive in letting him 
go to see Mr. Veriker had been that it would shake 


ROBliV. 


93 


him up a bit — take him out of leading-strings — make 
him more of a man than he was now. 

Mr. Blunt could have better excused a life of excess 
than the one of unostentatious retirement towards which 
Christopher was disposed. 

Between father and son a constant struggle went on : 
the one pushing forward, the other as resolutely holding 
back. 

Mr. Blunt would have had Christopher attend every 
ball and meeting, far and near ; he wanted him to put 
his name down for every club in the county. 

Christopher on the other hand, could be hardly 
induced to pay a call, and if he saw certain of his 
neighbors coming, he would go a mile out of his way to 
avoid them. That love of display in which Mr. Blunt 
delighted was torture to his son — to be thrust into 
notice because of their equipage and fine liveries 
humiliated him. 

There was but one man in Wadpole with whom he 
felt sufficiently intimate to call him a friend, and he to 
his father’s disgust, was a new comer and the curate. 

You haven’t no spirit in you,” Mr. Blunt would 
say ; instead of trying to get in with those that could 
be of some use to you. What’s the good of a fellow 
like that ! ” 

It was not that he had any special dislike to Mr. 
Cameron, but he wanted to have his vanity ministered 
to by seeing Christopher mix with those in whose com- 
pany he himself could never feel at ease. When his 
son was on horseback, Mr. Blunt was riding ; in what- 
ever he did the father had a share, and followed with 
pride that portion of himself which had always been 
well fed and clothed and nursed in luxury. The 
greater half of much ambition has root in a similar 
selfish prompting. 

During the time Christopher had been in Venice, 
Mr. Blunt had been taking his pleasure in London, 
thoroughly enjoying the fellowship of some of his old 
companions, indemnifying his apparent forgetfulness 


94 


ROBIN. 


of them in the country by the generous treatment he 
gave them in town. 

The letter announcing that Christopher was return- 
ing had sent him back to Wadpole, and a telegram a 
few days later on, saying the hour to expect him, took 
Mr. Blunt off to the station. 

Few things put him in better humor than a drive 
through the little town of Wadpole — a sleepy, out-of- 
the-world, old-fashioned place which, though but a 
short distance from London, seemed, so far as progress 
went, to have been overlooked or forgotten. 

There was one main street, composed of substan- 
tial dwelling-houses mixed up with shops kept by well- 
to-do folk, who with their business inherited their 
customers, and on market-days when the country peo- 
ple came in and the farmers were about, there was a 
little show of bustle here ; but at ordinary times the 
noise of carriage-wheels brought people to their doors 
and windows, and Mr. Blunt was greeted with the 
obsequious salutations due to such horses and such 
liveries. 

That was something like ! something worth look- 
ing at ; a man who’d got the money and knew how to 
spend it — and spent it among them too, which was 
more than Mr. Chandos did — their own Squire 
— a very unpopular man, who seldom of late years had 
cared to do more than pay a visit to Wadpole. 

However much the neighboring gentry might give 
the cold shoulder to Mr. Blunt, in Wadpole itself he 
had secured the popularity usually awarded to one 
whose advent is heralded by fabulous wealth, wonder- 
ful speculations, and an enviable facility of turning all 
he touched into money. 

No one could tell exactly how, but there was a gen- 
eral belief that Mr. Blunt^s coming meant some good 
to the town, and various hints were given and reports 
exchanged, as down the whole length of the street they 
watched him out of sight. 

Then the coachman permitted the horses to slacken 
their pace ; they had but to cross the wooden bridge, 


ROBIN, 95 

mount the short, steep hill, and the station would be 
reached. 

No longer satisfied with the pent-house shelter, 
which up to now had served well enough, public spirit, 
aided by a handsome subscription from Mr. Blunt, had 
demanded a proper waiting-room which was now in 
course of erection, together with the offices which 
should form a respectable terminus. 

None of these being yet fully finished, Mr, Blunt 
remained seated in his carriage, an object of admira- 
tion to the few persons waiting about, none of whom 
being of sufficient importance to engage in conversa- 
tion, his attention was caught by some workmen occu- 
pied — and very busily, too, since the great man had 
drawn near — in completing the masonry of a boundary 
wall. A mischance had caused the train to be late, 
and as the time went on Mr. Blunt became more and 
more engrossed in the work he was watching. 

Country fellows who had learnt their trade in the 
little town near to which they had been born, how 
clumsily they managed their tools ! If it was in that 
slipshod way that the work was to be done, the whole 
thing would be down in pieces about their ears 
before a year was out. 

There was one man who particularly stirred his 
wrath, a happy-go-lucky lout who kept time in his dab- 
bing-in of his mortar to some doleful composition 
which he slowly whistled. 

Oh, the purgatory of having to look on and to sit 
still ! 

At that moment Mr. Blunt would not have grudged a 
good sum to be able to jump from the carriage, pull off 
his coat, and knocking the five bumpkins to the right- 
about, give them a sight of what well-done, proper work 
ought to look like. He had not forgotten his tools, or 
how to handle them either. 

Did any one suppose that if he had ever scamped his 
work in that fashion, he should be where he was now ? 
and before his eyes there rose up a poor boy carrying a 
mason’s hod on his shoulder, 


96 


ROBIN, 


In an instant Mr. Blunt^s rubicund face had turned 
crimson ; it was as if he felt that others must have seen 
that vision, and have recognized that long ago he was 
that boy. 

Casting his eyes sharply round, he fancied he detec- 
ted a snigger on those stolid faces near, that they ex- 
changed meaning looks, guessed perhaps why he was 
interested in the progress of that wall. 

‘‘ What, I should like to know, is the meaning of all 
this delay ? ’’ 

Mr. Blunt’s comely appearance was as ruffled as an 
angry turkey-cock’s. 

“ Where’s the station-master ? Oh, Mr. Watkins, 
there you are.” 

It’s a little hitch with the Bocking train, sir,” said 
Watkins, coming forward ; they got stuck fast by 
Greentree, but it’s all right now, they’ve signalled us 
past, they’ll soon be here. I was waiting to tell you, 
but I see you was noting how they are getting on here 
— slow work it seems to me.” 

Torn between the desire to point out the defects of 
the work and the fear of displaying too much knowl- 
edge of it, Mr. Blunt hesitated, when fortunately a 
diversion occurred in the shape of a new arrival ; a high 
sort of butcher’s cart, with a rough pony, driven by a 
bright-looking girl, dashed up to the station. 

“ Am I in time ? ” she said, standing up so as to look 
on the platform over Mr. Blunt. ‘‘ Down train not in 
yet ? that is good ! Watkins,” to the station-master, 
‘‘ come here ; I want a parcel sent. How d’ye do, Mr. 
Blunt I was so afraid I shouldn’t do it ; and as she 
looked at her watch she gave a nod of satisfaction. 
Then in a graver tone, seeming to address all who were 
near, she said, “ You will be sorry, I am sure, to hear 
that the Squire has been taken ill — the rector had no 
idea that it was anything serious when he went to Lon- 
don, but the account yesterday was so unfavorable that 
he has determined to go on to Brighton from there ; and 
there are some things, Watkins, I want taken up to 


ROBIN. 


97 


meet him at Victoria Station. Lambert will be able to 
manage it for me ; don’t you think ? ” 

“ If it’s anything for you, Miss Georgy, he’ll do it if 
it’s to be done,” said Watkins heartily. 

Of course he will,” and the girl’s face reflected the 
smiles turned towards her ; ‘‘ it’s of no use having 
friends unless one makes use of them, is it, Mr. Blunt ” 
and without waiting his answer she asked, are you here 
to meet your son ? I heard he was expected to-day.” 

Yes ; I fancy he must be in a hurry to get home. 
I wanted him to take it easy and stay by the way, but 
he’s come straight back from Italy. I’m sorry to hear 
this about Mr. Chandos, though. Is it sudden, or any- 
thing he’s subject to ? ” 

“ Papa does not say, but he evidently thinks seriously 
of it, and the rector isn’t one to look at the dark side 
of things, you know.” 

While speaking, she had jumped down unassisted, 
and stood looking about for some one to entrust her 
pony to. 

“ Shall I — would you like my footman } ” Mr. 
Blunt hesitated. His footman had but recently come 
from the service of an earl. Dare he venture to ask 
him to descend thus far ? 

“ Thanks ; oh, dear no. Stop where you are,” she 
said, taking it for granted the man intended at once 
acting on his master’s suggestion. “ I see somebody 
who has been looking out for me,” and she nodded 
affirmatively to an old fellow who, at a little distance 
off, stood pulling his forelock in anticipation. 

“ I shall go on to the platform,” she said, and in- 
terview Lambert myself.” 

Mr. Blunt had already got down from the carriage 
with the gallant idea of being able to assist her. 

‘‘ I don’t think I can do better than to follow your 
example,” he said. “ The train must be close at hand 
by this time.” 

So going round and through the wicket they went 
chatting on one to the other, and when a few minutes 
later the engine came puffing in, Christopher, looking 

7 , 


98 


ROBIN. 


out of the carriage window, was greeted by his father 
and Miss Georgy Temple standing side by side to- 
gether. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

When, on that late October afternoon, after driving 
back from the station, Christopher reached home, he 
felt as if he had never before thoroughly appreciated 
the comforts by which he was surrounded. The house 
was so warm, the fires looked so cheerful, the rooms so 
well furnished, that a feeling of satisfaction stole over 
him — a feeling which involuntarily gave birth to the 
thought that perhaps the possession of all this might 
have some weight with Robin. 

Thus far his father and he had spoken but little of 
her. Mr. Blunt, amazed at the improvement in his 
son’s condition, at first could do nothing but comment 
on it. 

“ Why, I do believe that that’s the place to make a 
man of you, Chris,” he exclaimed, his face beaming 
with satisfaction. “ You look pounds to the good from 
what you did when you went away. You must be weighed 
to-morrow ; you’ve gained flesh, that’s certain : man- 
aged to put something more than skin on your bones 
this time, anyway.” 

They told me I was looking ever so much better 
than when I came,” Christopher replied. 

Better ! You’re not the same. I say, young chap, 
I tell you what it is : the tiext time there’s any need of 
a doctor, instead of calling one in I shall start you off 
to this Venice again.” 

Oh, I don’t know that all the credit’s due to Venice. 
There’s something in the care they’ve taken of me 
there.” 

They were glad to see you, then 't ” 

Very glad. Mr. Veriker was never tired of saying 
how good it was of you to send me to him,” 


ROBIN. 


99 


Mr. Blunt puffed himself out like a pigeon. “ 1 was 
glad to see by the letters you wrote me, that my gentle- 
man’s coming to his senses again. Poverty’s taught 
him which side his bread’s buttered on, and he’s learnt 
the lesson, upstart that he used to be ! ” 

‘‘ You’d find him greatly changed now,” said Chris- 
topher, eager to divert the conversation. 

“ Ah, ah ! I’ve no doubt I should,” and Mr. Blunt 
accompanied his laugh with a wink of the eye. “ Noth- 
ing alters people more than having to come down on 
their marrow-bones.” 

“ I feel certain he won’t last long,” said Christopher, 
gravely. “ It seemed to me as if I saw death written 
on his face when I said ‘ Good-bye ’ to him.’^ 

Mr. Blunt might have said that he was not sorry to 
hear it, but a superstitious dread of what must some 
day overtake himself made him answer : 

“ Ah, well ; he won’t leave many behind to be sorry 
for him,” 

There’s his daughter.” 

Oh yes, of course.” 

Mr. Blunt felt that decency would oblige the daughter 
to assume some show of sorrow, although it was not 
incumbent on him to credit her with feeling it. 

“ What’s she like to look at, eh ! You had her photo 
taken, I hope.” 

Christopher winced. It pained him to have to de- 
scribe Robin. 

“ Yes ; but I won’t tell you about her until you have 
seen it, then you can give me your opinion. 

“ All right, you shall have it. I used to be thought 
a fairish judge of a good-looking woman.” 

“ Then after dinner I’ll fetch it down. We shall be 
by ourselves then, and I can tell you all about them. 
It’s no use beginning now and having to leave off 
again.” 

This arrangement meeting with Mr. Blunt’s approval, 
the conversation during dinner, while the servants were 
present, was confined to descriptions of the places 
which Christopher had seen, more especially of Venice 


lOO 


ROBIN, 


and its wonderful buildings, in the accounts of which 
M. Blunt was much interested. He, in turn, related all 
the home news, more especially that which, while await- 
ing at the station, Miss Georgy Temple had put him 
in possession of. 

Miss Temple was the eldest unmarried daughter of 
the rector of Wadpole — a cousin of Mr. Chandos, the 
Squire, who was lying ill. Wadpole was a poor living, 
but Mr. Temple — in early days a gay collegian — had 
little else left now but its income to live on. Both he 
and his wife belonged to good old families, and in spite 
of the very droll 7nhiage they kept, they mixed with, and 
were welcome guests at, the best houses in the county. 
Every one ^aid that Nature had intended Georgy Tem- 
ple — a fair young Amazon of twenty-two — for a man, 
and she, sighing over the mistake, did her best to rec- 
tify it. She rode and drove more fearlessly than any 
woman for thirty miles round, and if these accomplish- 
ments were not maintained with all the grace desired, 
she excused it under the plea that she always meant 
business when she went out. 

“ I hate them to feel obliged to remember that I am 
a woman,’’ she would say ; and she used to tell with 
triumph of a certain fox-loving squire who, on a day 
when she had come to grief, and lay doubled up study- 
ing the sky on the flat of her back, constrained by the 
sight of a habit, to jump off his horse and offer help, 
exclaimed, “ Oh, it’s you, is it ! ” and was on and away 
before she could reply, saving the others from a like 
delay by shouting back, “ Come on, it’s only Georgy 
Temple.” 

Miss Temple had a certain familiarity with sport of 
all kinds. She would go out with a rod when there 
was nothing better to do, and shoulder a gun if her 
father needed a companion. In a fit of generosity the 
squire had given her a horse, and there was the family 
pony to which was attached the cart in which she had 
driven to the station. 

“ Miss Temple, by what she was saying, seemed to 
fancy the rector thought very seriously of what’s the 


ROBIN. 


lOI 


matter with the squire/^ said Mr. Blunt, continuing to 
retail scraps of the conversation. ‘‘ He’s not so young 
as he used to be,” he added ; “ and at that time of 
life anything sudden is likely to go hard, I should 
say.” 

“ Let me see,” said Christopher, trying to recall what 
he had heard about him, for since they had come the 
Squire had been but little seen in Wadpole ; “ he hasn’t 
any children, has he ? ” 

“ No, never has married ; always was going to be, 
but somehow it never came off. He’s got a nephew he 
brought up, but he quarrelled with him. Terrible thing 
for a man to be on his death-bed and nobody he can 
call his own to leave his money to,” and Mr. Blunt 
sighed lugubriously. He sympathized acutely with such 
a situation. 

“ There are the Temples,” said Christopher. “ I’m 
sure they want it badly, and they are his cousins, aren’t 
they .? ” 

“ Cousins ! ” repeated Mr. Blunt, contemptuously. 

“ What if they are ? I’ve got cousins, haven’t I ? ” 
and turning his head to see that the servants had not 
reappeared, he added : “ but to think that the Tappses 
or the Perkinses would be the better for all I cut up 
for, would that be any satisfaction to me, I should like 
to know ? Not a bit of it. It must be somebody who’s 
bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh, and bears 
your name, so that if you ain’t in it, you ain’t, as in the 
other way, gone altogether — straight wiped out o’ the 
whole concern ; ” and for a few moments Mr. Blunt re- 
mained silent, as if appalled by the consideration of 
such a disaster. ‘‘ And it’s something of that sort that 
makes me set on your marrying,” he began, feeling that 
this was a fitting moment to speak seriously to Chris- 
topher. “ Here you are up six-and-twenty years old, and 
with not so much as your eye fixed on anybody. Well, 
that mustn’t go on.” 

‘‘ Why ? You did not marry until you were past my 
age,” said Christopher. 


102 


ROBm. 


‘‘ And for good reason too. I’d got to work to main- 
tain my wife. I hadn’t the luck o’ some people to have 
a father born before me to make a fortune that I was 
only asked to spend, or, if so. I’d have done all you’ve 
got to do ; I’d have taken my pick and held up my 
finger. There’d have been plenty to follow it then as 
now.” 

‘‘ In my case I don’t know where the ‘ plenty ’ would 
be,” and Christopher spoke despondingly. “ I’ve never 
seen any girl anxious to marry me yet.” 

‘‘ Why, bless my soul, you don’t expect ’em to be 
jumping down your throat before you’ve opened your 
mouth, do you ? Anybody, to listen to you, ’ud think 
I’d got to deal with a born fool. Here, where’s this 
likeness I’m to see 1 If I’m to look at it to-night you’d 
better go and fetch it.” Mr. Blunt felt his temper rising, 
and the only way of restraining it was to change the 
topic. And what is it you have to tell me about 
Veriker.^ Nothing very agreeable, I dare say.” 

Christopher thought it wiser to go for the photograph 
without more delay. He had a thought that the sight 
of Robin’s face might restore his father’s good-humor. 

“ It’s no use,” he said, taking it out of the box where 
it lay, and pressing it close to him. “ It would be 
hoping against hope. She couldn’t endure it. It would 
kill her to listen to the things he would be certain to 
say of her father. 

Meantime, Mr. Blunt, left to himself, seized the op- 
portunity of mentally protesting against the conduct of 
his son. ‘‘ If I could only make him out,” he said, 
what he wants : what he’s after,” and he rubbed away 
at his bald pate as if fairly beaten by a mystery to 
which he could find no solution. Christopher’s foot- 
steps made him alter his position. 

“ There she is,” he said, laying the portrait before 
his father. ‘‘ Look,” and he pointed his finger to the 
name — ‘‘ ‘ Robin Veriker,’ do you see she has written 
it underneath for you ? ” 

H’m ! Is it like } ” 

“ Exactly like — only not half so pretty.” 


ROBIN. 


103 


Christopher was looking over the old man’s shoulder ; 
he could not see the expression of his face. 

She’s good-looking then 1 ” he asked craftily. 

Good-looking ! ” Christopher repeated with a tender 
rippling of the words. What do you think } I expect- 
ed to hear you call the face lovely, beautiful.” 

Here, I say ! ” Mr. Blunt, looking up, turned 
suddenly round, but not before Christopher had time 
to draw back into his shell. “ There’s nothing ujd 
between you two I hope, is there ? ” 

“ Up — between us two ! ” Christopher had gone 
round to the other side of the table. “ I don’t know 
what you mean,” he added. 

‘‘ Why, that — that vagabond hasn’t been baiting a 
trap with this good-looking daughter of his, and you’ve 
been caught in it, eh 't Come, I’ve got a pretty sharp 
nose for a scent of that kind.” 

So many have, but in this case it has led you rather 
astray, I fancy.” And the tone of his voice — a tone 
which he seldom used, but which his father perfectly 
knew — betrayed that the vexation he felt was greater 
than he desired to show. When this mood was on him, 
Mr. Blunt had a suspicion that he was no match for 
his son, so in a somewhat apologetic manner he said : 

Well, after all, I don’t know that it would have 
been anything to wonder at if they had tried it on. 
Veriker might have thought I’d only myself to blame 
for letting you go ; it isn’t every father, I can tell you, 
would have trusted his son there.” 

You knew your son was to be trusted.” Christopher 
spoke coldly. 

Well, yes, wherever there’s a girl in the question I 
believe he is,”" and he laughed discontentedly ; and 
then he took up Robin’s likeness and fell to examining 
it again. She’s a uncommon good-looking girl,” he 
said after a time ; “ more of the father, though, than 
the mother in her ; doesn’t take after her aunt at all 
that I can see.” 

This last sentence, put as an interrogative, Christo- 
pher felt bound to answer, 


104 


ROBIN. 


“ No,” he said ; in appearance she does not remind 
me in the, smallest degree, but in disposition I think 
there is a great similarity — her ways are something the 
same, and the manner she has of attending on her 
father. I was often put in mind of the days when any- 
thing ailed either of us, how the one after whom she’s 
named would wait on us.” 

“ Ah ! ” and Mr. Blunt gave vent to a prolonged 
sigh, the one she’s named after was one in a hundred 
— a hundred ! a thousand I might better say. Never 
fear, Christopher, you and I ain’t likely ever to see two 
Robina Blunts in our day.” 

“ No, indeed,” and Christopher echoed the sigh from 
the very bottom of his heart ; “ I fear we never shall.” 

“ She was such a sensible woman, clear-sighted and 
clever ! Bless me, I never wanted to seek any other 
companion while she was in the way. I used to talk to 
her by the hour together, and there she’d sit and listen, 
delighted with all I’d got to say.” 

Sad martydom ! Was she, who bore it, now reaping 
the fruit of all the sacrifices to duty she had made 
below ? 

“ Robin is ver}'' like her in that respect I should 
fancy.” 

Oh, Christopher, how wily love is teaching you to 
be ! 

H’m ! that’s how a woman should be, not wanting 
to hear her own tongue running all day long.” 

‘‘ Yes ; but that’s too much the way with most of 
them.” 

‘‘ You’re pretty right there, and the higher you go 
the more sound you get.” 

Mr. Blunt remained silent awhile — reviewing in 
thought the different girls he knew. 

‘‘ I should fancy our neighbor here. Miss Georgy 
Temple, was a pretty good hand at letting her clapper 
run.” 

He had come from the station impressed with the 
idea that he should like Miss Georgy for a daughter-in- 
law. 


ROBIN. 


105 


Christopher smiled. 

“ I expect they’ll be looking rather high for her now, 
if by chance the Squire should leave them anything. 
She was his favorite, I know.” 

Ah, Mr. Blunt hadn’t thought of that. There’d be 
one, if not the best, knocked off the list. There were 
some Miss Parkingtons, a Miss Twysden, and two or 
three more. Paupers ! who looked down their noses 
when they met him. He dared say they’d be glad 
enough to marry his son if they thought they’d the 
chance, but whoever married Christopher would have 
to saddle horses with him. He was master of his own 
house, and intended to remain so ; and drawing himself 
together as if to assert his position, his eyes fell again 
on the photograph. 

“ What does the father expect me to do for her ? ” 
he asked, indicating by his finger to whom he was 
referring. 

“ He doesn’t expect anything from you while he 
lives — at least he has never said so.” 

‘‘ Does he think himself that he’s dying ? ” 

‘‘ He seems to feel certain that he shan’t live long. 
When I spoke two or three times of his coming to 
England, he always shook his head and said he should 
never see England again, and that’s what makes him so 
anxious about Robin. He might drop down in the 
street — a fit of excitement would kill him any day — 
and then she’d be left absolutely destitute, with not a 
penny to call her own, and, except us, not a creature to 
turn to.” 

Ah, yes, that’s the way with all these high and 
mighty gentry. You ain’t thought fit to put your legs 
under the same table with ’em while they’re alive, but 
you’re good enough to look after their children when 
they’re dead and have spent every blessed sixpence 
that ought to go for the keeping ’em.” 

‘‘ Well but the children can’t help that. It’s not 
their fault. I’m sure in Robin Veriker’s case, she 
looks at every penny before she spends it. She always 
would ask if I could afford any little trifle I wanted to 


io6 


ROBIN, 


buy her, and at first I had quite a tussle to make her 
accept anything/’ 

Well I don’t think any the worse of her for that. 
It shows she isn’t one of the sponging order, and has a 
proper independent spirit,” 

‘‘ She has plenty of that, I can tell you. Nothing 
would please her better than to earn her own living. 
She was always asking, if they came to England, what 
she could find to do.” 

“ Has he had her taught anything, then ?” 

‘‘ Oh, she sings beautifully ! ” — Christopher was 
growing enthusiastic — ‘‘ and she chatters away in French 
and Italian like a native. I did’nt ask her if she could 
paint, but I daresay she can. She seemed to me to be 
able to do everything.” 

Mr. Blunt gave a pleased chuckle. 

“ I say,” he said, “ she’d rather take the shine out of 
a few about here, I fancy.” 

“ I should say she would ! ” said Christopher. 

“ And yet she don’t seem to have struck it off with 
you. You don’t seem to have been much taken with 
her ? Why, bless me, at your age, if I’d been thrown 
much with a girl who’d got a face like that,” and he 
held up the photograph admiringly, I don’t know what 
might have happened to me.” 

“ It’s well for you, then, that I’m not so inflammable,” 
and Christopher laughed a little confusedly. 

How well for me ? ” exclaimed his father. 

Why, I can hardly suppose you want me to have 
anything to do with Mr. Veriker’s daughter.” 

I’m not quite sure of that, since I’ve heard what 
yon’ve told me. According to your account, it seems 
pretty certain that he’s got one leg in the grave already. 
Well, when the other gets there, we shan’t have him to 
trouble us.” 

‘‘ Oh, time enough to think of that,” said Christopher 
hurriedly, ‘‘ when he’s gone and she is here.” 

‘‘ Oh yes ; dilly-dally, and let some one else step in 
before you. That’s your way. That’s you all over. A 
girl situated like her can’t afford to pick and choose like 


ROBIN. 


107 


you can. The first man that offers she must say yes, 
to.’^ 

A terrible dread seized on Christopher that such 
might be the case. How he wished he had opened his 
heart to Mr. Veriker. 

I donh know about dilly-dallying,” he began, 
slowly ; but before one thinks of marrying a person, 
you begin to wonder if ” and here he stopped. 

“ Well,” said his father, impatiently, ‘‘ you begin to 
wonder if — what ? Whether you care enough for them, 
I s’pose. That’s just the question I want to know. 
How do you feel about this girl } D’ye like her ? 
D’ye think you ever could like her ? — Come, now’s the 
time let’s have your answer, and then I shall know 
how to act and what to expect.” 

“ As for liking her, it’s not a question of that with 
me.” He had taken up the poker, and seemed to find 
his speech assisted by making savage thrusts with it 
between the bars. “ No man could be with her with- 
out liking her.” 

Oh, oh ! that’s the upshot of it all, is it ? the cat 
seems out of the bag at last. Well,” and his eyes 
twinkled with pleasure, I’ll do the thing handsome by 
her : I’ll write to her father.” 

You’ll do nothing of the sort ! ” exclaimed Chris- 
topher. 

Mr. Blunt turned a look of blank astonishment on 
him. 

‘‘ No ; most certainly not,” he added, decisively. 

‘‘ It’s one thing,” he went on, hurriedly, for me to 
care for her ; it’s another that I should suppose she 
cares for me.” 

A burst of imprecations deafened Christopher. His 
son ! not cared for by that scoundrel’s, that swindler’s, 
that pauper’s daughter ! Oh he must try and calm him- 
self, or he should be carried off by a fit of apoplexy. 
In a moment Christopher saw he had been led into 
making a false movement. How should he rectify it ? 

“ You seem to forget,” he said, “ all you said to me 
before I started. The very first evening I got there, I 


ROBIN. 


io3 

said we would consider each other as brother and 
sister/’ 

“ And if you did, what’s that got to do with it ?” 

‘‘ Everything. Knowing your prejudice against 
them, it never entered my head to think you would 
sanction anything more, and certainly because you seem 
to have changed your opinions, I don’t choose to be 
flung at the head of the girl, and accepted for the 
reason that I am the first person who has asked her to 
marry him.”- 

There was some truth in this argument, and Mr. 
Blunt began to be mollified. 

“ Oh, well,” he said, “ if that’s all — that you haven’t 
played the spoony enough with her — I’ve got no more 
to say. You can do that in writing, though, can’t you } ” 

“ No, I can’t,” said Christopher, shortly. 

“ The devil’s in it ; you don’t want to go there again, 
do you ? Oh, well, if so, I shan’t stop you. You may, 
go to blazes, I was going to say, only that you seem to 
have hit on old Harry’s daughter without it taking you 
quite so far away.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

This subject of marriage between Christopher and 
Robin, once mooted, began to take a wonderful hold 
of Mr. Blunt’s fancy ; the more he reflected on it the 
better the idea pleased him. Such an arrangement 
would rid him of that father-in-law whom he had always 
pictured as prying into his affairs ; there would be no 
need of settlements : the bride could be easily taught 
her place, and he be spared the necessity of having to 
keep up company manners before her. 

His anxiety now was to bring matters to a close ; a 
dread seized him lest Robin should be snapped up, 
and he did nothing but urge the necessity of action 
upon Christopher. 


ROBIN, 


109 


‘‘ Why don’t you pack up and start off at once ? I 
should,” he would say. 

“ But I am only just back,” with assumed reluctance 
Christopher would reply ; and for a moment Mr. Blunt 
had to swallow down his impatience, to return to the 
attack with : 

“ Well, then, write a letter to the girl, and let her 
have a hint of what you mean to do.” 

Oh, no — things of that sort can’t be written about ; 
besides, until I get there, I don’t quite know. I should 
like to see her again before I make up my mind what I 
mean to say.” 

“ Tch ! make up your mind ! While you’re about 
that, some Mossoo will step in — that’ll be the end of it, 
I can see.” 

“ And why not ? — all the better if she cares for him 
more than for me.” 

“ What the devil does it matter who she cares for ? ” 
roared the old man ; “the question is, do you care for 
her? if so, have her, if you don’t, leave her.” 

But to this choice of the alternative, Mr. Blunt could 
get no reply; and prompted by his own desires, and 
the assurance he gave himself that, should Christopher 
alter his mind, he could make it up to Robin in some 
way — unknown to his son, he wrote to Mr. Veriker, 
desiring that he would not give his countenance to 
any suitor who might come in their way, as he believed 
his son Christopher had taken a sort of fancy to 
Robin, and though — as no doubt Mr. Veriker would feel 
— it wasn’t exactly the kind of choice he cared to see, 
rather than put an obstacle in the way of his son’s 
happiness, he had given his consent, and that before 
long Christopher would probably pay them another 
visit, and, as he supposed say what he had to say. 

This was the gist of the letter, mixed up with much 
vulgar condescension, patronage, and pity that read so 
like scorn, that Mr. Veriker was made furious by it, the 
effect rendered worse, because he had no one to con- 
fide it to. If he showed to Robin what the old ruffian 
said, she would starve rather than be beholden to him 


lO 


ROBIN. 


for bread ; if he wrote and told Christopher, he was 
perhaps destroying the only friend she had left. Mr. 
Blunt had bade him take no notice of the letter. Mr. 
Veriker felt that silence was the wisest, but at the same 
time the hardest course to pursue. 

Brooding on the indignity offered him — for Mr. 
Blunt had been mindful to take out in condescension 
the long score he had against his ancient enemy — all 
the old bitterness was stirred up afresh, and the calm- 
ness and quiet of mind which was his only chance of 
life destroyed by the ferment set up within him. Dead ! 
a thousand times rather Would he see Robin dead than 
leave her to the scanty mercy of that old monster ! and 
— finding some pretext to send her out, in order that he 
might be alone — he would pace the room to and fro, 
seeking for a way to revenge himself without letting 
the blow aimed be dealt through Christopher. Robin 
returning, would find him worn out — the fiery spirit had 
consumed the strength of the failing body — and hardly 
able to speak or move, during the rest of the day he 
would lie silent, following her about with wistful eyes 
that pierced her through with sorrow. And then the 
agony of those evenings, when in the dark, because he 
had a disposition to sleep, Robin sat — his hands clasped 
in hers — the victim of a hundred vague alarms : he 
wasn’t breathing ! and she was all but choked by 
the tumult of her heart, forced into making some slight 
noise that by rousing him would still this wild terror, 
or a ray of light across his face would show all its hag- 
gard lines and make them strike her afresh ; the deep- 
set eyes, the temples sunken in each side, the hollow 
cheeks, the drawn, set mouth. 

Papa ? ” the words seem wrung from out her lips. 

What is it ? Yes, my dear.” 

“ Nothing ; I thought — I heard you speak — to me.” 
All Robin’s breath had died away, she had no power to 
say more ; and her father sinking back into a drowsy 
state, the conflict with her fears began, and had to be 
gone through as before. 

Christopher no longer with them without a friend 


ROBIN, 


III 


near to whom she could go for counsel or advice — what 
should she do ? That her father was ill, very ill, she felt 
sure — twice lately he had had slight returns of that terri- 
ble pain. Once while Robin was out, the people from 
below had come up to find him faint ! they had been 
attracted by the noise of something falling on the floor. 
Surely he ought to have a doctor ! But the bare mention 
of calling one in made him angry with her. 

‘‘ Never wait again,’^ she said to the man who kept 
the house ; “ the next time he is ill send oif at once for 
any doctor near ; when he is fetched to him he cannot 
say no.’^ 

And therefore it was that some days later, the land- 
lord, Giacomuzzi — who, with an Italian’s dread of 
death, longed to get them out of his house — at the 
first symptom of alarm rushed off for his family physi- 
cian, who happened to live close at hand. 

Chance directed that the old man called in had had 
a wider experience than many of his fellows, and when 
he was there, Mr. Veriker had not the strength nor the 
energy to protest against his presence ; he answered 
his questions, accepted his prescriptions, and made a 
sign that Robin should pay him his fee and send him 
away. 

He has some distress of mind, something that is 
agitating him just now — is it not so ? ” asked the doc- 
tor, closing the door behind Robin that her father 
might not hear. 

“ No,” she said ; ‘‘ nothing that I know of.” 

But yes ; there is something that I see. Try and 
discover what, and remove it, if you can. It is his 
only chance of life, that of being quiet and not agitated 
in any way.” 

“ Wait,” she said : ‘‘ come down stairs — I want to 
speak to you,” and together they went into the tiny 
bureau below ; and some minutes later, the doctor 
having gone, Robin came out to go upstairs again. 

Madame Giacomuzzi, who ha^d a soft heart embedded 
in that mountain of flesh which constituted her body, 
took her hand and squeezed it sympathetically. 


II2 


ROBIN. 


Poor child ! poor child ! ’’ she murmured, and Robin 
thanked her with a smile. The woman was crying ; 
her dark eyes were humid and wet : but Robin’s were 
hot and dry ; she could find no tears to ease her sor- 
row. 

The next day a letter from Christopher arrived. 
Mr. Veriker, recovered from his attack, which had 
been but a slight one, read it and laid it on one side, 
expecting that Robin would question him about it, 
but to his astonishment she seemed to take no notice. 

“ Don’t you want to hear what he says, Bobby ? ” he 
asked, with a faint attempt at his old humor. 

When you want to tell me, I do,” and she came 
over and knelt down by his side, “ I want to hear all 
your secrets, papa.” 

My secrets, child ? ” 

Yes ; all those that trouble you — you have some 
that give you trouble, haven’t you ? Haven’t you had 
some worry lately, within the last ten days — something 
you have kept to yourself and haven’t told me ? ” She 
was speaking very fast ; her face had grown flushed 
and earnest; she had thrown her arms across her 
father’s neck, and was resting her chin on his breast. 
‘‘ Papa don’t do this ; speak out to me.” Involun- 
tarily she closed her eyes for a moment ; her nostrils 
were dilated, her hands tightened, until the nails 
seemed plunged into the palms. The doctor has told 
me all,” she said, so there is nothing I cannot bear 
to hear from you ; ” and relaxing from the strain she 
had put upon herself, she let her head slide down, and 
there it lay, nestled and half hidden in her father’s 
silky beard. 

Had either of them — he, in his all but fifty years ; 
she in her seventeen short summers — ever sent up a 
cry so earnest as that which now implored that they 
might go together. What mattered death if neither 
were left behind to sorrow ? Parting was death. 

O child ! ” 

O father ! ” 

And there they lay, clasped close together until the 


ROBIN. 


nj 

best part of an hour had passed ; and then, little by 
little, Mr. Veriker began to ease the weight of his dis- 
tress by telling part of its cause to his daughter. He 
.spoke at first in short broken sentences, ejaculations — 
if he could but see her settled, provided for — that as- 
certained, and he should be happy — nay, he believed 
he should be well — for it was only when he could not 
rid himself of anxiety that he felt ill. 

‘‘ See how well I was,” he said, “ when Christopher 
was with us.” 

Robin sighed. 

‘‘ Oh ! ” she exclaimed, how I wish he would come 
again ! ” and immediately her thoughts grew busy as 
to what inducement she could hold out to bring Chris- 
topher back to them, so that she was not struck by the 
long pause before her father’s next sentence came. 

“ That letter,” he said with an effort, ‘Ts to tell me 
he is coming.” 

“ Coming ! What, coming here — soon — now at once, 
papa ? ” 

Her nerveless limbs seemed to have regained their 
strength. She was still kneeling by his side, but by 
this time with her face aglow, her head erect. 

O Youth, how strong hope dwells in you ! In that 
moment Robin saw her father raised up, made well and 
strong, and — all by Christopher’s return. 

‘‘ Did you ask him to come ? ” 

‘‘ No, my dear.” 

Something in the tone struck her. 

“ Did his father tell you in that letter you had from 
him ? ” 

Mr. Veriker’s look made assent. 

“ And you did not tell me, papa. Why did you not 
tell me ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, I was afraid that perhaps you might think it too 
great a sacrifice.” 

What a sacrifice ? ” and she fixed her eyes on her 
father inquiringly. 

“ Well, he — indeed, both of them — they want you to 
marry Christopher.” 


114 


ROBIN, 


“ Marry Christopher ? ’’ the words dropped down on 
Robin’s heart like lead. “ Yes : and if I did ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, my dear, if you did, there would be an end to 
all my anxiety. With somebody to look after you, and 
plenty of money for you to spend, I should have noth- 
ing more to worry over.” 

“ And is it this, then, that has been worrying you ? ” 
she asked earnestly. 

“ How could it be otherwise, seeing how friendless I 
leave you.” 

“ Hush ! don’t talk of leaving me. If I married Chris- 
topher, and you had everything you wanted, you would 
get well, wouldn’t you ? ” 

He shook his head. 

“ I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. ‘‘ At times I 
think I might. I’m not quite tired of life yet, some- 
how.” 

“ And when we could go where we pleased and have 
whatever was good for you without any care of money, 
why, you would soon be all right. The doctor told me 
so.” 

Did he ? ” he said hopefully. ^‘The remedy does 
not sound half bad; it strikes me as rather jolly,” and 
the old smile lit up his wan face again. “ And you, 
Bobby, you are not tired of your old father yet, eh, are 
you ? ” 

“ Tired ! ” she said, and as the dread of losing him 
swept over her, she flung herself down, buried her 
head, and wept passionately. 

Child ! don’t, don’t ! ” he murmured, and the sound 
of his voice roused Robin to control herself. 

“ I don’t know why I am crying,” she sobbed. I 
— am — sure there is nothing to cry about. I am very 
glad to marry Christopher — very glad — indeed — that 
he has asked me.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Christopher at this time was already half way on 
his journey back to Venice, his starting speeded by a 


^OBIN, 


IIS 


conversation in which Mr. Blunt betrayed that he had 
taken upon himself to write to Mr. Veriker. 

Poor fellow ! his task was by no means a pleasant 
one, for with his eyes refusing to remain blind to his 
ostentation and vulgarities, Mr. Blunt was his father, 
and Christopher held it a sacred duty to screen from 
other failings which made much in his own life 
bitter. 

Absence, without in any way diminishing his love, 
had tempered the heat of its fire, and with a full sense 
of the happiness he was giving up, he felt secure in his 
own strength to study only what should be best for 
Robin’s future welfare. 

Before leaving home he had written a letter register- 
ing a promise not only to watch over Robin, but by 
an income which she should believe she derived from 
her father, to provide her with means of support. More 
fluent as a writer than as a speaker, he had very touch- 
ingly alluded to his love, its hopelessness, and the pain 
he knew he must suffer. Yet he was willing to give up 
Robin without even asking her, because circumstances 
might induce her to make a choice which her later 
judgment might repent. 

With this letter ready to give Mr. Veriker, Christo- 
pher arrived in Venice, he was — unexpected by them — 
ushered into the presence of the father and daughter. 
Robin was ready to go out. Mr. Veriker had but just 
come down. Both were effusively warm in their wel- 
come of him. Only a few weeks had elapsed since 
they had parted, yet what a change he saw in both ! 
The first look at Mr. Veriker came on him as a shock ; 
Robin’s pale cheeks and tired eyes struck him with dis- 
may. The very weather, too, seemed in harmony. It 
was cold and wet ; fogs hung low over the canals ; the 
sky was no longer sunny. 

‘‘I wish I had you both in England,” he could not 
help saying, contrasting the cheerless room with the 
comforts he had left behind him ; ‘‘ the houses there are 
so warm and cosy.” 


ROBIN 


ii6 

Mr. Veriker looked round him, and gave a little 
shiver. 

“ What do you say,” he said to Robin ; “ shall we go 
back with Christopher.” 

She tried to smile assent. What was this that had 
come over her ? Only that morning she had awakened 
full of desire that Christopher would come — come soon, 
so that they would be married and get away from here 
so that her father would be stronger. He had had a 
slight attack the night before , now, at first sight, the 
instant her eye fell upon Christopher, she was op- 
pressed by a desire to escape, to run away out of his 
sight, out of his reach — anywhere. 

“ I think, if you don’t mind, Christopher, as I was 
going for something, it is best for me still to go.” 

“ O God ! send me strength to give her up,” was 
Christopher’s cry ; for a look at her face, the sound of 
her voice, had wakened the love which slept but to 
arouse refreshed. What should he do ? How battle 
with the temptation which was now so near him } 

“Yes, my dear, do,” said Mr. Veriker. “ It’s some 
drops I take. You won’t be long gone. It’s only to 
to Zamperini's,” he explained to Christopher. 

Christopher opened the door, watched her down, and 
then returning, seated himself near Mr. Veriker. 

“ I am so glad to have you alone ! ” he said. “ I 
wanted to give you this,” and he handed him the letter, 
“ and to speak to you. You know why I have come, 
but what does she think has brought me .? ” 

“ She knows,” said Mr. Veriker. 

“Knows ! You didn’t show her my father’s letter? ” 

“ Hardly. Your father was a little plain-spoken, my 
dear fellow ; but I told her his wishes, and that his 
wishes were yours also.” 

For the life of him Christopher could not get out the 
words which would ask Robin’s reply, and the mention 
of Mr. Blunt’s letter had set Mr. Veriker’s heart beat- 
ing so that his breath came with difficulty. 

“ What a confounded nuisance this is — directly I 
begin to speak, he said irritably. “I wanted to tell 


ROBIN. 


117 

you all about it — ^how it came round, and what she said 
— but — I can’t do it. It won’t let me,” and he put up 
his hand as if he was in pain. 

“ Don’t try yourself. Never mind ; only, what was 
her answer Tell me that.” Christopher’s effort to 
speak seemed as great as Mr. Veriker’s. 

Oh, all right : as I thought — she likes you ver)" 
much ; seems quite taken with the idea of marrying you.” 

Were his senses going ? Did it mean that., this buz- 
zing in his ears and swaying of everything before his 
eyes Christopher was experiencing all the first dis- 
tress of fainting. Mr. Veriker was still speaking to 
him when he seemed to come to himself again. He 
felt for his handkerchief ; a cold sweat stood on his 
forehead. 

It has taken you by surprise, poor lad,” Mr. Veri- 
ker said sympathetically. ‘‘ Well, I confess it did me a 
little ; and I’m an old stager, you’ll say, and ought to 
be pretty well up in the caprices of women. But they’re 
unfathomable, you know. I’ve often told you so ; ” 
and to seem more at his ease, for the way Christopher 
had taken what he said embarrassed him, he essayed to 
whistle ‘‘ La Donna e Mobile,” and failed signally. 

Without speaking, Christopher got up suddenly, and 
took a turn up and down the room. Coming back to 
Mr. Veriker, he said : 

“ It’s impossible that she can love me. She doesn’t, 
does she ? ” 

Love ! Well, she’s a little young to know much 
about love. That’s a lesson for you to teach her, it 
seems to me.” 

Christopher shook his head. 

“ I can’t help feeling it is taking an unfair advan- 
tage,” he said. “ She has taught me what love is, and 
yet I am going to deprive her of liberty.” 

How liberty ? ” said Mr. Veriker quickly. 

‘ ‘‘ The liberty of choice. She cannot have that if she 

is tied to me, and reason will no more listen to her 
saying, ‘ Love Christopher,’ than it did to me saying 
‘ Don’t Love Robin.’ No, no,” and he sighed heavily ; 


ii8 


ROBIN. 


“ I must put away the temptation, and you — you must 
help me. Don’t let her ever have reason to say that 
the two that loved her best wrought her the greatest 
misery.” 

Mr. Veriker looked away, and Christopher went 
on : 

‘‘ In that letter you will see what I have promised 
you to do for her, and in time I shall have more at my 
command ; and if I find that it will make her happy 
to share it with — another, I will treat her as you would 
have done. Only let me leave her free. Help me,” 
he added earnestly. ‘‘ You must ; for I am much 
stronger when she is away than when she is near 
me.” 

Mr. Veriker raised his head. Christopher had bent 
his down on the chair-back, his face was hidden from 
view. There was a look of awe in the weary world-worn 
eyes wliich Mr. Veriker turned upon him. What was it 
he felt 't Not admiration. We must in a way compre- 
hend to admire, and no experience of his, or of anyone 
he had ever known, enabled him to guage the spirit of 
sacrifice shown by Christopher. Hitherto, fond as he 
felt of him, he had accepted much of the kindness 
shown him with a certain easy complacency, feeling that 
if he had not spent his money in that way he would have 
in some other — “ One of those fellows who build 
asylums for deceased blind beggar men’s dogs and send 
out books to the blacks who can’t read ’em,” he would 
say descriptively, when drawing a picture of his newly- 
found relation. The charity, morality and many other 
good qualities which Christopher had shown, were but 
further instances of his weakness ; and when Robin, 
struck by the fact, had wondered how it was that Chris- 
topher had grown up so good, Mr. Veriker had made 
answer that “ he expected he couldn’t help it ; that he 
had been born so,” and his vague surmise found point 
in the laugh which followed, and which gave thanks 
that a like calamity had not befallen him. 

But the last few weeks of bodily pain and mental 
suffering had wrought as great a change internally as 


ROBIN, 


119 

it had to the visible eye. Through those long, sleep- 
less nights, how many hours had he dragged out in 
groping, trying to lay hold of something to cling to, and 
finding all fail him — in none of them support. Books 
worried him ; newspapers, novels — once enjoyed with 
keen relish — now fell flat, flavorless. He did not want 
to hear of the world he was forced to turn his back 
upon, yet he was tormented by a vague unsatisfied 
craving. Was it to hear something of that other world, 
the one he said he had no belief in, which a voice 
he could not still kept whispering he was fast hastening 
to ? 

Christopher believed in that life to come. In spite 
of being laughed at, he had often spoken to him of his 
faith in it. Did the belief make him act as he was act- 
ing now ? A glimmer of consciousness that man had 
been imaged after an all-glorious Being, higher than his 
own, capable of a nature more divine than the one he 
possessed by birth, began to steal over Mr. Veriker. 
He felt himself tremble, and Christopher at that mo- 
ment stretching his hand towards him, he could scarce 
take it in his own. 

“ I have been exciting you,^’ Christopher said, quick 
to catch sight of the"^ increased pallor on his face. 

“ Don’t read the letter now. Put it away ; we’ll talk 
about this another time.” 

Mr. Veriker made a movement of the head. Time 
with him he knew was fast running to its end. He 
wanted to speak now. He thought he would tell Chris- 
topher about Jack — how Robin and he had been left 
together — ask his advice ; speak of why Jack had gone 
away, and how, since, he had cast him off from them 
altogether. He did not stop to ask, why the prompt- 
ing to say this to Christopher He only knew that he 
felt it was a sort of duty a reparation he ought to make, 
and he would make it if he could get the strength to 
speak. 

The brandy,” he gasped ; in that cupboard there. • 
Before she comes in give me some ! ” 


120 


ROBIN. 


Christopher searched the shelf, but it was in a bottle 
which he did not at once see. 

Never mind ; there’s some ether, that will do. 
Hand it over ! Quick ! or she’ll be back.” 

Christopher looked around for some water, got a 
glass, and finally put the bottle to his nose to make sure 
it was the right stuff. Mr. Veriker watched him with 
all the impatience of his disease. He had to tighten 
his lips to keep back the irritable exclamations which 
he was bursting to fling at him. The effort at control 
only aggravated his distress. 

“ Oh, it’s no good now ! ” he exclaimed, his quick ear 

catching the sound of Robin’s voice. “ I — I ” the 

sharp pain which came like a stab forced him into 
silence. He shut his eyes, and lay back exhausted. 

“ What is the matter ? ” Robin was sniffing the 
sickly odor now so familiar to her. “ You’ve been 
giving him ether ? Papa ! ” 

Mr. Veriker tried to reassure her by making a move- 
ment of his hand, but the conflicting emotions of 
the last hour had over-taxed him. He was growing 
faint. 

Tossing aside her hat, Robin flung herself down be- 
side him. Her attitude was a study for despair. Poor 
child ! all unversed in the ways of illness, she had not 
an idea of what remedies to apply. It was Christopher 
who brought what was necessary, and in a few minutes 
Mr. Veriker, who had never quite lost consciousness 
was sufficiently restored to open his eyes. 

“ You have been talking to him too much,” Robin 
murmured, looking around to Christopher reproach- 
fully. 

Mr. Veriker shook his head. 

“ There are some things we must talk of together,” 
he said faintly. 

But nothing that I may not hear. I know what 
has made you come, Christopher.” He was shaking 
so that he could hardly stand. She was looking at him 
steadfastly. ‘‘ Papa has told me. You want me to 
marry you, he says, and I am quite willing. Only let it 


ROBIN. 


21 


be very soon, so that we may get away from here 
quickly/’ 

But,” Christopher managed to say, ‘‘ that need not 
stop us. We can go away without it being necessary 
for you to marry me, Robin.” 

No, no,” she said impetuously. “ I would rather 
we were married ; he wishes it,” she added, lowering her 
voice. It will do him good. Didn’t you say 
papa,” for she saw he was listening. ‘‘ that you would 
like me to marry Christopher — that it would make you 
happy ? ” 

“ Yes, I said so,” murmured Mr. Veriker. “ I didn’t 
think of him then,” and he struggled with the emotion 
which now so easily overcame him ; but since he has 
come back — — ” It was of no use ; the lump in his 
throat was choking him, and, breaking down, he sob- 
bed out, ‘‘ He’s a good fellow, Robin ; a good fellow. 
God bless him ! God bless him ! ” 

Robin stretched out her arms ; Christopher caught 
her hand. 

We'll talk together later,” he whispered. ‘‘ Say no 
more now.” 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

But in the conversation which took place between them 
later on, nothing better was arrived at. Robin steadily 
maintained that she wished to marry him, and when 
Christopher ventured to ask if she loved him, she said 
she had not any love to give to any one now — all her 
love was swallowed up by her father ; and Christopher, 
overcome by the giant desire, grew accustomed to the 
whisper it made in his ear that in time, by the aid of 
his untiring devotion, love would most certainly come ; 
gradually, by degrees, Robin would learn the lesson, 
and, sweetest of all enticements, he would be her 
teacher. 

Without delay, he wrote at once to his father, and 
Mr. Blunt, pleased by what he considered his manage- 
ment of the matter, offered no opposition ; indeed, 
Christopher, wise in his generation, so worded the an- 
nouncement in his letter that his father was pleased by 


122 


ROBIN. 


the decision, and thought none the less of Robin for 
the readiness she had displayed in closing at once with 
such a good offer. 

Mr. Veriker, daily weaker, after that one effort, never 
returned to the subject again. The moment for speak- 
ing out — what was now locked up forever in his breast 
— had passed by. Soothed by Christopher’s presence 
and attentions, he began to feel he could not do with- 
out him. To send him away was robbing himself of 
his only chance of life. When Christopher once hinted 
at the letter he had given him, Mr. Veriker said he 
would read it later. But the evening he had received it 
he had put it away, and he kept putting off the trouble 
of taking it out of his desk again. 

So the necessary preliminaries, entrusted to Mr. Hol- 
ton, an English notary, who resided at Venice, were 
ordered to be hastened on with all possible despatch, 
and to Christopher at least the time went by swiftly. 

The necessity of constant attendance on her father 
formed a sufficient excuse for Robin and him to be but 
little alone, and seeing how soon her care would be in 
vain, Christopher forbore to lure her from the watch she 
kept. It was only Robin who did not, could not, would 
not see the rapid decline in Mr. Veriker. A mere hint 
that he did not seem so well brought down her dis- 
pleasure on the speaker. 

The going away from Venice immediately after the 
marriage was the event which buoyed her up. Travel- 
ing had always agreed with him. He had never been 
ill while they were going about from one place to an- 
other, and as soon as the wedding was over, they were 
all three, the very same day, to start off, and begin by 
easy stages their journey. Spezzia, the place which 
Mr. Veriker had fixed on to go to; where he said he 
should like to stay, giving as a reason to Christopher 
that his wife lay buried there. 

‘‘ Child, I don’t fancy it would do me much good to 
go and see you married,” Mr. Veriker said, the morning 
before the wedding-day. “ Would you mind if we got 
Mr, Holton to act my part as father? ” 


ROBIN. 


23 


Not a bit ; she did not mind. The ceremony she had 
to go through was a mere ceremony to her. 

In the first few days after Christopher’s arrival, 
Robin’s couch had been watered nightly by tears of 
anguish and despair ; but now, familiar with his pres- 
ence, relieved by his thoughtfulness, never obtruded on 
by his advances, all this was past — sunk in the greater 
anguish which haunted her like a spectre, the unknown 
dread of something which, although she shut her eyes 
to it, she saw each hour stealing nearer. 

Posted up as to the day when the marriage would 
take place, Mr. Blunt, still in high good humor, sent a 
substantial proof of his favor, together with a letter, 
from which Christopher improvised messages to Robin 
and her father. 

The luggage was packed ; all ready. Madame Gia- 
comuzzi was to look after Mr. Veriker, who had prom- 
ised to rest quietly until the return of the bride and 
bridegroom. Dejuener would then be served, and they 
would be in time for the train which was to take them 
to Verona. 

To cover the under-current of emotion which op- 
pressed them all, great interest was feigned in Mr. 
Blunt’s letter, scraps from which, while waiting for Mr. 
Holton, Christopher went on reading. * 

It is our Squire,” he said in explanation — ‘‘ I left 
him very ill — who, my father says is dying, and all the 
place is agog to know how he will leave his property.” 
No heir, then ? ” 

“ No children — a nephew who has quarreled with 
him. They have sent for him, though, it seems now. 
He is abroad somewhere.” 

•‘Lucky dog,” sighed Mr. Veriker. “Why ain’t I 
that nephew ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t think you need wish to be : the peo- 
ple don’t seem to say much that is good about him, I 
fancy.” 

“ So far as I ever discovered, nobody ever said any- 
thing good of me,” and Mr. Veriker jsmiled feebly, 
“ What’s the name of the nephew ? 


124 


ROBIN, 


‘‘ Name ! ’’ said Christopher, whose thoughts were 
following Robin. Oh, Chandos — the Squire’s name.” 

“ Chandos ? ” repeated Mr. Veriker. ‘‘Wasn’t his 
name Chandos, Robin } ” and he turned his head round 
to find she was not there. 

“ Robin has gone downstairs,” said Christopher. “ I 
expect it’s time for me to follow her.” 

Below Robin was speaking to Madame Giacomuzzi. 
The woman held her by the hand. Her motherly heart 
yearned towards the girl. 

“ Ah, it is not you she would have chosen,” she 
said, addressing Christopher a few minutes later, as she 
stood watching them go, for Mr. Holton had joined 
them and they were walking toward the gondola. 
“ She needed but to say, ‘ I don’t want Paolo,’ and I 
knew about whom she was thinking ; ” and she hug- 
ged the baby she was nursing closer, and went to find 
a candle to set up before the picture of the “ Ma- 
donna,” 

Meanwhile Giacomuzzi came back from the steps. 
He had been keeping in readiness the gondola. The 
waiter, in company with the sister who helped in the 
house duties, returned from the vantage-spots they had 
chosen. The marriage had been quite an excitement 
among the household. Now they must call to mind 
their duties. Madame would go up and see after the 
Signor. Would she then give him this letter ? and 
Giacomuzzi took one from his pocket and gave her. It 
had come an hour ago. In the bustle he had forgotten 
to deliver it ; but she need not say so. 

Madame Giacomuzzi — as she said after — took up the 
letter, gave it to Mr. Veriker, who asked her to give 
him some water. There was none in the room, and she 
went to fetch it, and when, perhaps ten minutes later 
— for something down stairs detained her — she re- 
turned, she found Mr. Veriker lying back faint. But 
she had seen him faint often before, so she threw over 
his forehead some of the water and then thought she 
would burn under his nose some paper — alas ! in her 
haste, the very letter j but he did not come to, so she 


ROBIN, 


125 


called to Giacomuzzi, and he ran for the doctor, and 
the doctor came, and was still there when the wedding- 
party returned, and Robin, flushed and trembling, ran 
up, close followed by Christopher. 

‘‘ Papa ! ’’ and then, seeing a crowd in the room, she 
made a rush forward. Father ! father ! but some 
one intercepted her. Father ! she screamed, and 
with all her might she struggled to get free. 

Hush ! hush ! he cannot hear you.’^ 

Mr. Veriker lay dead. Beside him was a screwed- 
up bit of burnt paper. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

One of Jack Dorian’s chief sources of regret while 
away was the fear that he had forfeited the friendship 
of the Temples. His uncle he knew had misrepre- 
sented him to them, and he felt sore that they had 
believed him. 

Not of a disposition to excuse himself — for he was 
well aware there were many instances in his conduct 
which called for indulgence — Jack allowed a gradual 
coldness to increase in their letters, which by degrees 
came less frequently, until, as before shown, they at 
length had ceased altogether. 

Georgy, staunch in her friendships, at the risk of 
losing Mr. Chandos’s good opinion, never ceased to 
stand up for her former playfellow. 

“ I dont care what anyone may say of him, I shall 
always maintain he was badly treated,” she would 
repeat to her mother, who now that the chance of 
uniting these two seemed over, bewailed Jack’s ingrati- 
tude as another proof of the ill-luck which ever dogged 
her. 

Of a certainty — now that Jack had left him, and the 
house was shut up, the Squire would marry ; and the 
flavor of the fruit and the vegetables, which came from 
the Manor during his absence, were spoilt by her con- 


126 


ROBIN, 


stantly showing for how short a time they should enjoy 
them. 

During the whole of those years since Jack had 
left, the Temples, and through them all Wadpole, were 
kept in a continual ferment of expectation. They were 
the standing dish always hailed with relish, these on 
dits about the Squire. He was going to marry — he was 
not going to marry ; he was married — there was nothing 
in it. Then as regarded Jack, fifty reports were circu- 
lated, to be received or rejected according to the 
disposition of the hearer ; the uncle and nephew had 
cut olf the entail, and because of the sum of money 
given in consideration to the latter, Mr. Chandos could 
not afford to live at Wadpole. 

Jack Dorian — according to another account — had 
repelled with indignation this offer, and out of his 
refusal arose the displeasure of his uncle. Perhaps 
Mr. Chandos never heard one-half of these fabrica- 
tions, assuredly the half he did hear did not annoy 
him ; on the contrary, he rather liked to mystify his 
neighbors, and was shrewd enough to feel he lost 
nothing personally by those about him believing he had 
gained the power of what he possessed at will. 

He was staying at Brighton — raising the fondest 
hopes in the breast of a very fair young lady, who was 
almost quite what he desired — when this illness 
attacked him ; at first not considered serious, but 
gradually increasing, so that when the rector, for whom 
he had sent, arrived, he was past talking business with 
him. But, only as was thought for a time, hope was 
far from extinguished as to his ultimate recovery ; yet 
knowing how uncertain is life, his physicians recom- 
mended if there were any relatives he might desire to 
see that they should be warned of his danger and sent 
for immediately. 

‘‘ I feel like a fish out of water here by myself,’’ 
wrote the rector ; ‘‘ I should like Georgy to come to 
me.” And Georgy went to him, and all Wadpole saw 
in her going the certainty that it was she who was to 
possess the property. 


ROBIN, 


127 


“ Now how shall we hunt out Jack ? ’’ was Georgy’s 
first inquiry ; “ no matter what has passed between 
them, to find him and bring him here seems to be our 
duty.” 

Then I would best write to old Clarkson,” said the 
rector, who would not oppose his daughter’s proposi- 
tion, although he would never have had the strength 
himself to act thus generously. And Mr. Clarkson 
written to, he, with a better knowledge of how affairs 
stood between the uncle and nephew; telegraphed to 
where he had sent Jack, giving orders that the message 
should be forwarded on to wherever he might be ; and 
it was by these means that Jack Dorian was brought to 
England, only giving himself time before he started on 
his journey to write to Mr. Veriker. 

A happy woman was Mrs Temple that day when she 
went to the station to meet her husband. Jack and 
Georgy. Mr. Chandos was dead. They were bringing 
back his remains to bury. Jack Dorian was Jack 
Dorian no longer ; he was Mr. Dorian-Chandos, the 
new Squire of Wadpole. Every one thought him 
altered, a few thought him improved, and among the 
few was Georgy. Little wonder that Mrs. Temple’s 
hopes again ran high when she saw the attention Jack 
paid readily accepted by her daughter. The two 
seemed instinctively to fall into their old ways, and 
though, by reason of his uncle’s death, and the business 
it entailed on him, there was no opportunity to resume 
their amusements, the time they spent together was 
generally occupied in recalling reminiscences of them. 

“As soon as I am settled down here,” Jack would 
say ; and as time went on — for it took some months to 
arrange the necessary business — say rather pointedly, 
Georgy began to fancy. What did he mean about this 
settling down ? She did not know why, but the 
sentence always conveyed that the meaning to be 
understood was “ when I marry.” But marry whom ? 
He had never spoken — never even hinted of any 
attachment he had formed. Could he, she wondered, 
be married already Sometimes, by his manner, she 


128 


ROBIN, 


thought it possible. He was absent, preoccupied, 
talked about alterations in the house, the gardens, the 
furniture, always as if he had someone in his eye whose 
taste he was consulting. Georgy was puzzled rather 
over this, and, as had been her habit for more than a 
year now whenever anything perplexed her, she took 
into her confidence Mr. Cameron. 

You don’t think it’s you ? ” said the curate, simple. 

“ Me ? No ; what makes you ask that question. 

“ Because it entered into my head, as it seems to 
have entered into the heads of a good many.” 

‘‘ Oh, really ; has it ? Well, and how do you like the 
notion ? ” 

Mr. Cameron hesitated. 

Come, speak out — tell me.” 

“ I don’t know that I ought,’' he said. ‘‘ I have no 
reason to give, but I don’t like the notion at all.” 

Georgy smiled amusedly. “You are generally so 
full of reasons.” she said. 

“Yes; am I not? But I wouldn’t say it for the 
world to anyone but you ; we are always frank together ” 
— she smiled back at him encouragingly. “ From the 
first evening I met the Squire, I felt towards him a 
kind of antipathy.” 

“ Yes ; did you ?” 

Do I pain you by saying so ? ” 

“No, I don’t know that you do; although, being 
very fond of him, I can’t quite see the necessity.” 

“ Nor can I, either, and it is that that troubles me.” 

“ You must try and get over it while he is away. 
He is going abroad again.” 

“ Abroad ? I thought it was but to London he had 
gone.” 

So he has now, but after he comes back next week, 
he is going to Italy, I believe. He has talked of it to me 
for some time, only there was so much to do that he 
could not leave before.” 

“ Not to stay — he is not going ? ” 

“ No, no ; only about some business — business which 
seems to be a little mysterious, somehow,” 


ROBIN. 


129 


“ Oh — h, I understand/’ said Mr. Cameron, and his 
face beamed at the discovery he thought he had made. 
“ When is he coming down ? — to-morrow ? — with the 
bride and bridegroom ? — will he ? ” 

No, not until Thursday : and Tin not sorry, for he’s 
taken an awful dislike to old Blunt, and might be a little 
stiff with your friend Christopher.” And having 
reached the Green, where they were to part, the two 
bade each other good-bye ; Mr. Cameron going his way, 
humming to himself softly — he felt so unaccountably 
light-hearted, he couldn’t think why — Georgy smiling. 

“ If ever I make up my mind to break my mother’s 
heart ” (Mrs. Temple had declared that if Georgy 
married as badly as Isabel had done, this calamity 
would most certainly occur), “ I shall have to propose 
to him myself ; it will never enter his head unless I put 
it there ; of that I feel sure.” 

During the time Jack was being installed as the new 
Squire of Wadpole, he had v/ritten several letters, both 
to Mr. Veriker and to Robin, to which he had received 
no reply ; within the last few weeks some of these had 
returned, and, without seeing any immediate reason for 
it. Jack began to feel a little uneasy. Ccmld anything 
have happened to Mr. Veriker? or were they still 
roaming, hidden away in some out-of-the-way spot which 
he had forgotten, or did not know ? In that last letter, 
written, as Jack imagined, when they were on the point 
of leaving Venice, Mr. Veriker had dwelt much on 
seeking quiet and warmth ; that was, he said, what he 
wanted for the winter — but the winter was past now, 
the spring had come, and no doubt at one of their old 
haunts he should find them ; and oh, their surprise at 
hearing the news he had to tell ! Jack often fed his love 
by picturing the delight of Robin, and fed his pride by 
the astonishment he knew Mr. Veriker would feel. 
His amour propre had never quite recovered the thrust 
dealt by the father, who had shown him he did not hold 
him worthy of his daughter. 

“ But there, I forgive him,” he would say, ‘‘ for if it 
had not been for him I should never have written to 
9 


130 


ROBIN. 


Clarkson, and if I hadn’t written to Clarkson they 
would not have known where to find me.” 

That he had seen his uncle again, confessed his 
repentance, received his forgiveness, was an unknown 
comfort to Jack. Standing strong and full of health 
beside the bed of the pain-racked, dying man, Jack was 
filled with compunction for everything that had hap- 
pened between them ; while Mr. Chandos, with the 
clearer-sightedness of approaching death, felt that he 
had wronged his nephew. Neither of them were men 
given to protestations. Only a word or two passed 
between them on the subject, but that word was suffi- 
cient. Oh for the time to come over again ! ” In each 
heart that wish found echo, a wish so mercifully for 
our failures never granted. 

When later on Jack said to Mr. Clarkson, that but 
for the last week he had spent with his uncle his inher- 
itance would have been robbed of its value to him; he 
but spoke the truth, and his old friend believed him : 
and the knowledge of the peace of mind he had gained 
through it made him, whenever he thought of that week, 
grow very -Q^passionate towards Mr. Veriker. He 
would act very liberally towards him, although of 
course it would not be quite possible to have him too 
much there. It might interfere with his training of 
Robin, for already Jack was indulging in many ambi- 
tious ideas, and although he would not have confessed 
it to himself — for oddly enough most of us have two 
natures, the loftiness of one despising the weaknesses 
of the other — he felt at times a sense of complacency 
that he should remain so constant to the memory of 
that little neglected child, that run-wild girl, when so 
many advantageous marriages were certain now to 
present themselves to him. 

Already he had received congratulations and calls 
from everyone worth knowing in the county, his tenants 
and neighbors had welcomed him, aud with the exception 
of that vulgar brute old Blunt — between himself and 
whom there had been a dispute concerning some 


ROBm, 


131 

adjoining land which he proved he had the right to 
occupy — he was on good terms with everybody. 

The one cguse of regret, the new Squire had been 
heard to say, was that his land should dovetail into 
that odious parvenu’s property ; and he reproached the 
Wadpole people for permitting a respectable estate, 
like Priors, to get into the hands of a money-grubbing 
tradesman. 

It deteriorates the place in the eyes of the whole 
county,” he said, “ to have people of that sort set 
down in the very midst of us. Once there, and how 
are you to get them away ? — you can’t do it, the thing’s 
impossible ; before the father dies the son marries ; 
naturally he has a family, and there you are.” 

Considering the feeling he had towards Mr. Blunt, 
Mr. Dorian-Chandos was very glad that he would not 
be at Wadpole when his expected son and his new 
wife should arrive : his immediate starting for Italy 
would relieve him of the necessity to call until he re- 
turned. Well, a good many things would have happened 
before then, on which would depend whether he includ- 
ed these people among those who had the entree at the 
Manor. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Appetite — says the proverb — comes with eating, and 
a little excitement induces the desire for more. Thus 
the inhabitants of Wadpole, having had their tastes 
whetted by the death of the squire, the return of his 
nephew — whom, notwithstanding the rupture between 
them, he had left his heir — were ready to seize on the 
smallest opportunity which afforded scope for gossip 
and speculation. This was just now provided by the 
expected return of the bride and bridegroom — Mr. and 
Mrs. Christopher Blunt were coming home. Priors was 
being made ready to receive them ; old Mr. Blunt had 


132 


ROBIN. 


settled down there again, and was awaiting their 
arrival. 

It was the middle of April ; four months had gone 
since the death of Mr. Veriker, time spent by Robin 
and Christopher in visiting the different places where 
in former days she had lived with her father, Shocked 
by the tragic coming to pass of an event which he had 
so often openly wished might occur, Mr. Blunt readily 
acceded to any plan which prevented his being brought 
face to face with Robin’s grief. 

“ I’d rather she got quit of it a little before you 
come home here,” he said in writing to Christopher ; 
“ so don’t mind the expense, go about as much as you 
like, and let her see plenty to amuse her.” 

Christopher had taken him at his word, and during 
the time which followed, life had been paradise to him. 

How wonderful is love ! with what patience it 
endures ! Christopher never seemed to tire of listening 
to those rhapsodies which Robin, in her early days of 
sorrow, kept repeating about her father ; nay, rather 
because they seemed to lift her burden he would 
encourage her, and in so doing gained her trust and 
confidence as his reward. 

She leaned on him for support, spoke openly to him 
of her hopes and fears, and by degrees began to lend 
a more willing ear to the little things he said- to ease 
her sorrow. That her father was at rest, free from 
suffering and pain. “ Yes, but God could have made 
him well here.” And then the hope that they would 
meet again, that they were not separated for ever. 

But I wanted to go with him then.” 

Alas, poor Robin ! Chistopher had need to love 
her. The poor bruised heart was well worth healing, 
and the husband was made in no way jealous because 
of the devotion the child bore to her father. Besides, 
Robin’s sorrow was not morbid, she did not wear it on 
her sleeve to sadden everyone around her. 

After the first few weeks — when, struck down and 
helpless, time passed she knew not how — brought back 
to life through the care of Christopher, she strove for 


ROBIN. 


133 


control, and would pass whole days seemingly pleased 
and even cheerful. Only from one eye she could not 
hide the unbidden tears which some passing sight or 
careless word would make flow, and then Christopher 
taking her hand would by a gentle pressure tell her 
she had his sympathy. Thus they became fast friends, 
constant companions, one of them entirely dependent on 
the other. To be watched, have her wishes forestalled, 
to be waited on, was something new to Robin ; to be 
trusted in, leaned on, looked up to, equally new and 
far more delicious to Christopher. 

Those former doubts whether he should gain her 
love did not oppress him now ; daily he felt more secure 
in the happy certainty and Robin, without knowing it, 
was steadily drifting to the same conclusion. 

Love, in the sense in which she had once known it, 
no longer existed for her. Her father’s death and her 
consequent sorrow seemed to have killed outright every 
emotion which did not bear on grief for him. It did 
not even strike her as strange that she should feel 
utterly cold and indifferent about Jack, having no inter- 
est concerning him, except perhaps how and when he 
would hear the sad event, and a grim satisfaction that 
he would be startled to be told the circumstances which 
had made it so tragic. 

When Christopher had asked whether she would not 
like any friend written to, Robin had said resolutely, 
“ No.’’ What mattered it now who came or stayed 
away 1 it was all the same to her. The icy hand whose 
hold was laid on him she loved would not loosen its 
grip. 

In spite of all that she had done, he was gone. He 
was dead. She was left alone. Let the living go their 
way — no one could ease her grief, no one could make 
her happy. Her father no longer with her, in those 
days Robin believed that happiness had fled from her 
for ever. 

Now that time, with ‘‘healing in his wings,” had 
begun to soften her sorrow, bitterness had also given 
way, and, bridging over more present memories, her 


134 


ROBIN. 


thoughts would sometimes wander off to earlier days. 
What had become of her teacher, master, childish 
adviser? Would they ever meet again? A sigh would 
answer ‘‘ Never,’’ and slowly down her face the 
unchecked tears would roll. And Christopher, finding 
her, would take her hand. Why was she crying ? 
Robin could not answer him ; hardly could she have 
made answer to herself, except that she was thinking 
of bygone days — of things that had happened long 
ago. 

We shall soon be home now,” Christopher would 
say, hoping that fresh scenes, new faces, and new 
duties would prove for Robin the best distraction. 

Already many plans had been mapped out of things 
they would do together, and Robin, by Christopher’s 
description, had grown quite familiar witli Wadpole and 
its people. 

They, in their turn, were far more curious regarding 
the new arrival than Christopher dreamt of, or Mr. 
Blunt gave them credit for ; and it would have surprised 
the two not a little could they have heard some of the 
conversations which about this time — whenever any 
gathering brought people together — went on in Wadpole 
concerning them. 

‘‘ I wonder what she will turn out like — this Mrs. 
Christopher Blunt,” each one began to say. Most of 
those who knew Christopher were well disposed 
towards him ; the drawback was “ that terribly vulgar 
father.” 

“ But the son cannot help what is amiss with the 
father. Why should you punish one man for the failings 
of another ? ” 

This was Mr. Cameron speaking — Mr. Cameron, the 
curate of Wadpole — and, because he was very fair, 
small, and boyish-looking, his flock, mostly stout, able- 
bodied, well-to-do people, were rather given to laugh at 
him. They ridiculed his zeal, affected to be a little 
shocked by his principles, and rather resented the 
plain-spoken way in which he took them to task in his 
sermons. The vicar^ Mr. Temple, though seeming to 


ROBm 


135 


sympathize with this prejudice, secretly chuckled over 
the occasion of it, while Miss Georgy, his daughter, 
was only the champion of Mr. Cameron, and wherever 
she was present he had a defender. Overflowing with 
animal spirits, health, vigor, a feature of her disposition 
was to take the part of every weaker creature ; and 
Mr. Cameron, town-bred, worked beyond his strength, 
forced to come to the country — his chance of life to 
breathe a purer atmosphere — seemed to have a claim 
to protection from her. 

At first a little amused at his ignorance of sport, his 
nervousness about guns, and his timidity whenever he 
found himself on a horse — the awkward fashion in 
which he sat one sent her into fits of laughter — Georgy 
was quick to recognize the higher qualities of a man 
whose courage knew no limit when bidden by duty to 
obey his call; and whom she saw go willingly and fear- 
lessly to watch by bedsides of which most others 
shunned the danger. Added to this, Mr. Cameron was 
eminently conspicuous for the courage of his opinions, 
and, bashful as he might be in society, never failed to 
speak did necessity require it of him. Whatever his 
daughter cared for Mr. Temple viewed with favor; 
therefore, though not so openly, in the rector the 
curate had another staunch partisan. 

Mr. Temple was rector of two parishes — Wadpole, 
and some three miles distant. Uplands. Before Mr. 
Cameron’s time. Uplands represented ;^ioo a year, the 
curate’s salary, in return for which every second Sun- 
day a service was supposed to be held in the school- 
room there. But the people of Uplands were not 
great church goers. A scattered parish on the outly- 
ing edge of a long stretch of common; the place was 
not viewed with favor: idlers, reputed poachers, bird- 
snarers, rat catchers, all congregated there; the cot- 
tages were ill smelling, their inhabitants evil-living. 
The Pharisees of Wadpole wondered that such a dis- 
grace was permitted to exist so near. 

A little down hearted at sight of Wadpole — every- 
body seemed so moral and prosperous there — Mr. 


ROBm, 


^36 

Cameron’s heart leaped with joy at the account of 
Uplands; after all there would be a field to labor in, 
and he might turn to profitable account the time he 
was forced to stay here; and going to reconnoitre he 
fell in by the way with Christopher Blunt, they walked 
on together, and found they each enjoyed the others 
company. 

Mr. Blunt on being told of their meeting, with a 
view to step into the magic circle, proposed to 
strengthen the acquaintance by inviting the curate to a 
dinner-party, an invitation which the curate was 
prompt to decline. 

‘‘I shall be very glad to call and see you,” he said, 
frankly, ‘‘ and if then, at any time, when I could stay, 
you like to ask me to dinner, I should really feel 
obliged to you; but I’m not a diner-out, it’s a waste of 
time, and a lot of dishes don’t agree with me.” 

Mr. Blunt was disposed to be offended at this — 
Christopher, on the other hand, was pleased ; the 
refusal was in keeping with the man, and consistent 
with much he had said. Frightfully sensitive about 
everything that savored of ostentaiton, it was not until 
a second chance meeting had brought up the subject of 
Uplands that Christopher ventured to say he hoped he 
might assist in money, if he could not in any other way. 
Mr. Cameron readily accepted the offer; and just at 
the time of the arrival of Mr.Veriker’s letter, these two 
men were slowly creeping on towards a steady friend- 
ship with one another. 

Mr. Cameron had asked Christopher to come any 
evening and see him at his lodgings; Christopher had 
readily accepted the invitation to go. Mr. Blunt — 
disposed to think meanly of a man who refused a good 
dinner when he got a chance of getting one, and 
utterly opposed to his son being mixed up with anything 
that brought him in contact with a set of idle vaga- 
bonds who got their living God knows how — looked 
askant on the intimacy, and even went so far as to say 
as much to the rector. 

“The vulgar old upstart !” ejaculated Mr. Temple 


ROBIN. 


137 


mentally; but outwardly he only laughed, as was his 
way when anything which might have called forth a 
rebuke was said to him. 

Taken to task sometimes by his straightforward 
daughter, he would tell her with a touch of irony that 
he had found it easier to become a parson than to 
become a hypocrite ; and if not satisfied, as she never 
was with this reply, she continued the argument, it was 
only to draw a lot of banter from her father, ending 
with his oft-quoted aphorism ; It would be all the same 
a hundred years hence. 

But would it be the same ? Georgy Temple doubted. 
She was clear-sighted enough to see there were many 
duties left unfulfilled by the rector, and the sight of 
these troubled her. Sighing over them, she invariably 
felt a yearning pity for her father ; and Mr. Temple 
was indeed much to be pitied, for he was a man with 
a spoilt life and a warped character. Nature had 
intended him for anything rather than a clergyman, 
which fate had destined him for. His godfather held 
in his gift the living of Wadpole, and when he had 
recommended that his godson should be brought up to 
the Church, the parents had regarded the boy as the 
most fortunate among their children ; great sacrifices 
were made to send him to Eton and to Oxford, and this 
done, there was no use in protesting when he was 
involved in difficulties out of which there was but one 
way of escape : he must be ordained, accept the living 
and marry his patron’s daughter. 

Had ever anyone heard of such a fortunate young 
man ? The congratulations of all around him made the 
draught none the sweeter ; but George Temple swal- 
lowed it, and few ever suspected how much it cost him. 
It took him years to get rid of the bitterness and discon- 
tent, humiliation with which his duties filled him ; a 
fine nature with such a battle to fight would have over- 
come or would have died. 

Mr. Temple did neither — he did not possess a fine 
nature, therefore he became gradually lowered by the 
contest, and now, iwhen he was a man on the wrong 


138 


ROBIN. 


side of fifty, with a family grown up around him, he 
was chiefly distinguished by the eccentricities which 
arose from doing as he pleased and letting things man- 
age themselves as best they could without him. He 
did not commend the righteous, neither did he rebuke 
the sinner ; this latter omission looked on as a great 
dereliction of duty, and, in his neighbor’s eyes, one of 
the worst traits in his character — that screening of the 
poacher, the drunkard, the Sabbath-breaker, it was 
worse than wrong ; it was encouraging them in their 
evil ways. Even Mr. Cameron had ventured to say 
something of this to him, and the rector bade the young 
man take them to task. 

‘‘ You’re the right fellow to do it,” he said, but as for 
himself, he held his tongue. 

Partly on account of her having been the daughter 
of a former Squire, and because she put forth a claim 
to sympathy from all who knew her, Mrs. Temple was 
viewed with great forbearance by her neighbors in 
Wadpole. 

She was a woman in a chronic state of grievance ; 
misfortune, according to her own showing, had never 
ceased to pursue her. 

She had started in life by being of the wrong se*x, 
and so had forfeited the inheritance to which she 
nevertheless continued to consider herself rightfully 
entitled. 

For years after her marriage she had lived in con- 
stant hope of having a son ; only daughters were born 
to her. Her husband, more particularly viewed by the 
light she applied to him, had turned out a perfect fail- 
ure ; he did nothing to maintain their position in the 
county, pointedly avoided all contact with the Bishop, 
and devoid of ambition, declared that being rector of 
Wadpole, he intended to live and die there. Mrs. 
Temple had long ago ceased to recollect that the 
choice of her husband had been entirely her own, and 
that against the advice and wishes of her father she 
had insisted on marrying a very lukewarm lover, 

Carrying on the chain of disaster, her eldest daugh- 


ROBIN. 


139 


ter, Isabel — now Mrs. Spencer — had married, oh, so 
badly ! a poor man in a marching regiment with noth- 
ing but a soldier^s pay to keep them on, and babies 
forever coming. Of course it was out of the question 
that they should have any thing to give her ; it was as 
much, indeed more than they could do to keep them- 
selves, for, as Mrs. Temple frankly confessed — and 
here undoubtedly she spoke the truth — she was no 
manager, she had not been brought up as one, had 
never been taught to look at each penny before it was 
spent, and therefore could not do so now. 

So with an income which, under ordinarily good 
management, might have served for a very sufficient 
living, the house was always in confusion and disorder : 
children — the young Spencers — who, coming first un- 
der pretext of a visit, prolonged their stay until they 
were left altogether there, running all over the house ; 
dogs in every room ; pets of all descriptions every- 
where. The family came and went as they liked, each 
individual doing what he or she pleased. 

There was a schoolroom virtually allotted to the 
Spencers and the youngest daughter, Dora, between, 
whom and Georgy a gap of some years came. 

In her growing-up, Georgy Temple had had for a 
companion the late Squire’s nephew. Jack Dorian ; 
the two, in short, had emulated each other, both pupils 
of the rector, at whose heels they constantly ran. As 
a boy. Jack invariably spent his holidays with the 
Temples ; and it gradually unfolded itself to Mrs. 
Temple that the glory and honor of the family would 
be greatly restored if these two ever became one. 
The wish added to the interest she felt in Jack’s favor 
— she cared for the boy on his own account, and in 
the general ways of life was by no means a schemer ; 
but should the rector die, how little there would be to 
maintain them 1 And Georgy married to Jack, what 
more natural than to shift the burden of the younger 
children on to the shoulders of their sister — the Manor 
House was large enough to take them ; the means, 
compared to what she had now, were ample. 


140 


ROBIN, 


So far then it was decided ; there remained but one 
obstacle — the Squire might marry ; against that he 
must be guarded. So as long as Mr. Chandos lived 
Mrs. Temple continued to be, on that subject, his net- 
tle. By reminding him of his age, the dangers at his 
time of life of changing his condition, she strengthened 
his resolves, and seldom seperated from a tete-a-tete 
without his declaring to himself that could he but meet 
the exact person he wanted, if it was only to spite that 
woman, he would marry to-morrow. 


CHAPTER XXL 

When Christopher and Robin arrived at Wadpole 
Station, they found the carriage awaiting them, but 
not Mr. Blunt ; he was deterred from coming, his man 
said, by a threatening of gout, from a bad attack of 
which he had but recently recovered. Unable during 
his son’s absence to endure the tedium of home, Mr. 
Blunt had spent most of his time in London in the 
company of those few choice companions who, for the 
sake of what they got by knowing him, listened to his 
bragging, and didn’t mind his bluster. 

Kept temperate and sober during his working life by 
a will which was strong enough to overcome desire, 
Mr. Blunt considered that he had earned the right to 
self-indulgence ; and he acted accordingly, the habit of 
excess growing on him as he grew older. 

In presence of his son, and within eye-reach of his 
neighbors whose lives were given up to the god Respec- 
tability, Mr. Blunt felt compelled to put a restraint on 
his action, eat of the dishes set before him, drink wine 
only in the measure that was good for him. Suddenly 
this strain would prove too great ; he would one morn- 
ing invent some business which necessitated a few days’ 
absence, and at the end of a week perhaps he would 
return and take up again the daily life of dull routine. 

But Christopher absent — the house partly shut up — 


ROBIN. 


141 

there was no necessity for coming back and from a 
little before Christmas to the present week in April, 
Mr. Blunt had been away leading a life, according to 
the people he spent it among, by which every day he 
drove into his coffin a fresh nail. His continued 
debauch, for it had degenerated into little else, had 
at length pulled him up short by a very sharp attack of 
gout, from which he was only just recovered when he 
arrived at Wadpole. 

With an impatience under pain, which he felt a man 
so prosperous ought not to be called upon to bear, and 
a nervous dread of death whenever he was ill, Mr. 
Blunt had a superstitious aversion to mourning, which 
Christopher conveying to Robin as delicately as he 
could, she had so far given in to his scruples as to lay 
aside all crape, and consent to appear in black or in 
white as occasion might call for. 

‘‘ That is the Manor — Mr. Chandos^s place, Robin — 
there, where that clump of trees is — high up — do you 
see 

Christopher was not sorry to have Robin to himself 
for the drive from the station ; he wanted to be the first 
to point out the features of her new home — their home 
as it was now to be. 

“ What, on what looks like a hill, do you mean ? 

•‘Yes; behind there, hidden from us, is the house ; 
the ground slopes down from that into what is almost a 
wood, the right to which he has taken from my father, 
I hear.’’ 

“ Oh, but that isn’t very nice, is it ? He’s a new 
squire too, isn’t he, since you went away ? ’. 

Christopher had beguiled many an hour by picturing 
the place to which he was going to take her, and now 
that Robin had reached there she felt proud to air her 
knowledge, and to show him that his pains had not 
been thrown away. 

The spread of her young affections lay all dressed, 
and like the fields by which they were passing, ready 
to receive the good seed of each new domestic tie. 
The house which they were nearing was to be her 


142 


ROBIN. 


home, the old man awaiting them another father, 
the neighbors who would call she would make friends 
of. 

‘‘ Oh ! see, Christopher, how nice they look ! ” 

The lodge-gates were thrown open ; clustered around 
them were the keeper’s rosy children. Robin returned 
their salutations by touching her lips with the tips of 
her fingers ; and the woman, looking after her with 
open-eyed admiration, for there was something very 
childlike and foreign in the movement she had made, 
said, “ Pretty young creature ! I wonder what th’ ole 
brute up there’ll say to her.” 

A similar doubt was filling Christopher’s mind, caus- 
ing his heart to flutter with sickening anxiety; he so 
hoped his father would speak kindly, say what he ought 
to to her ; and at the bare supposition of her being 
wounded creeping in, he was amazed at the rush of 
indignation which followed. 

Looking up, his eyes met hers, and the sight of her 
fair young face vanquished his fears. Who could look 
at her and not love her ? and Robin now was looking 
very fair — time had restored her strength, care and 
good living had brought back a healthy color to her 
cheeks, and Christopher’s generosity enabled her to 
indulge her taste so that her dress was in every way 
becoming. 

Already she had carried by storm the admiration of 
the servants, most of whom had assembled in the hall 
and there stood watching her, as she hurried up the 
stairs after Christopher, to be taken by him into the 
presence of his father. Mr. Blunt had not thought it 
necessary to leave the room in which he sat, to come 
down stairs. A tribute to Robin was paid by the but- 
ler, who felt the omission, and tendered his master’s 
gout as an apology. 

“ So here you are back again at last ! Well ! oh ! 
this is Robin, is it, the wife you’ve brought back with 
you ? ” 

It was not surliness, but a want of breeding which 
embarrassed Mr. Blunt at this moment, and prevented 


ROBm, 


143 


him speaking more graciously. He had all the desire 
then to welcome Robin, and when ‘she, stretching out 
her hands, offered to kiss him on both cheeks, saying, 
“ Uncle, thank you for all your kindness ; I hope you’ll 
like me,” he kissed her heartily. 

I’m sure I shall,” he said, my dear, if you’re only 
half as good as you’re good-looking ; I shall be very 
fond of you, you’ll see, and make Christopher there, 
jealous, I shouldn’t wonder ; why he’s already twice 
the fellow he used to be — never saw anybody pick up 
so in my life ; and what d’ye think o’ me, eh } ” 

Robin got a little red. 

“ You are not at all like Christopher,” she said hesi- 
tatingly. 

The answer did not displease Mr. Blunt. Of a robust 
stature, with florid face, dark sharp eyes, hair which 
though grizzled was thick, and whiskers not altogether 
gray, he was very well satisfied with his appearance, 
considered he carried his age well, and thoroughly be- 
lieved those who told him he didn’t look a day older 
now than he did twenty years ago. 

Well, no ; I s’pose not ; can’t give everything to 
your children, can ye } ” 

‘‘ Oh ! but I like Christopher as he is ; I don’t want 
him altered.” 

“ That’s as it should be ; take things as you find ’em 
— a very good motto. Only let him go on putting flesh 
upon his bones as he’s done the last few months, and 
we’ll put up with the rest, and the children can take 
after their mother, eh ? ” 

What did he mean ? Something funny, though what 
Robin did not understand — for he chuckled and 
laughed and winked his eye to Christopher, who either 
failed like her to see the joke, or declined altogether to 
accept it. 

Which of the rooms has been made ready for us, 
father ? ” he asked ; and the tone of the question dis- 
pleased the old man. 

‘‘ Oh, the one at the end of the passage ! I’ve given 
you the pick,” he said a little huffily. It’s the best 


144 


ROBIN, 


room in the house” — he seemed to address Robin — 
“ barring mine. I don’t turn out you know, for any- 
body.” 

“ Of course not.” 

Robin was hasty to accept what she presumed was 
intended as an apology. 

“ We should be very soriy for you to think of that on 
our account.” 

‘‘ Well, you see, I’m master here ” — Mr. Blunt felt 
there was nothing like hitting the nail on the head at 
the right time — ‘‘ I’ve always been, and always mean to 
be.” 

‘‘But, certainly. Christopher prepared me to con- 
sider you that.” 

“All right then,” he said, intercepting his son’s 
reply. “ So long as this is understood I shall be very 
pleased to look on you as missis.” 

“ And I shall be very pleased to act as such, as long 
as you wish me to.” 

“ That’ll be so long as you behave yourself, then,” 
and the old man laughed good humoredly. “ Promise 
to keep it up, and I won’t bring no mother-in-law to 
worry you.” 

Christopher was standing by the door waiting. Robin 
got up and followed him. His heart felt heavy. Cer- 
tainly his father had never before seemed to him so 
vulgar. What must she think of him ? How did he 
strike her Oppressed by his doubts, he put his arms 
round her — ^a rare event, for Christopher was very 
chary of thrusting forward his affection. He had a 
very just calculation of how they stood one in regard to 
the other, and even feared lest he might frighten away 
the new-fledged love he thought he saw hovering 
near. 

“ Robin ” — the words of sweet caress which lovers 
use had been chilled in Christopher’s speech, and he 
could not use them now — “ I hope you will be happy 
here, now you have come.” 

“ But I must be happy. This is our home. We can- 
not go away.” 


ROBIN. 


145 


Ah, there lay the sting ! Christopher had never asked, 
never wanted anything beyond having his wants sup- 
plied, and the money — always more than he had needed 
— that his father gave him. His continual weak health 
had prevented him from even desiring an occupation, 
for which, from Mr. Blunt’s affluent means, he was well 
aware there was no occasion. But marriage seemed to 
have effected a revolution in his position. Jt was no 
longer fitting that a man with a wife should be depend 
ent — himself and her — for every penny. He had not 
felt the gall while away , already it was beginning to 
chafe him sorely. 

“ Oh, but it will be all right ! ” 

She saw he looked troubled. 

I shall soon get accustomed to everything ; do not 
fear for me.” 

‘‘ My father is a little Well, old people are 

sometimes 

Poor Christopher ; he did not know what to say. 

‘‘ Yes, I know; but don’t let that worry you. I shall 
get used to him. I did not expect to find him what 
you are. There can’t, you know, be two such Chris- 
tophers to spoil me,” and she lifted up her face for him 
to kiss her. 

“ Am I right ? ” he said ; ‘‘ is it true what I some- 
times think, that you are getting by degrees to care a 
little for me ? ” 

‘‘ A little ! ” she had begun to speak in jest. 

Suddenly her face turned very grave, and fixing on 
him her eyes, she said : 

“ I know it is not yet what you want, but all the love 
I have left in my heart I have given to you.” 

And Robin spoke the truth. At that moment she 
had forgotten Jack, and was only thinking of her 
father. 


10 


146 


ROBIN, 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Nearly a week had gone by since Robin’s arrival at 
Wadpole, during which time, unacknowledged by him 
self, Mr. Blunt continued to play company. 

Always proud to exhibit his possessions, he felt a 
twofold satisfaction in displaying them to the daughter 
of an ancient enemy, who on her part, entirely disarmed 
all ill-feeling by her outspoken admiration of every- 
thing she saw. 

Delighted to have some one to talk to who seemed 
always pleased to listen to him, Mr. Blunt did not spare 
Robin his society. Together the morning was passed 
in going round the garden, through the greenhouses, 
over the stables. She had to listen to the individual 
cost of everything, and the expense entailed by keeping 
such an establishment in proper order. 

For the afternoon there was an invitation to a solemn 
drive. That over, the evening was taken up by a 
lengthened out dinner, after which Mr. Blunt, rendered 
more than usually gallant by reason of the wine he had 
taken, volunteered to teach Robin cribbage. 

It was the only game of cards he cared for, he said, 
as soon as she had learnt it, they would be able to play 
every evening. 

Until after the bride had been seen at church, and 
Sunday had not yet come round, it was not probable 
that any one would call* on her, and Mr. Blunt decided 
that to go out walking beyond the grounds would not 
be considered etiquette, besides which, it would be run- 
ning the risk of chance introductions which might be 
made a pretext for not coming to the house. 

Since the marriage many who before had passed him 
by, with but a stiff recognition, had stopped to inquire 
about Christopher ; they had expressed an interest in 
his happiness, and sympathy with the young wife whose 
father had died on her wedding-day. 

Mr. Blunt had been ready with his own version of 


ROBIN, 


147 


the tragedy, toned down by him to a respectable occur- 
rence which might happen to any well-connected family. 
He did not want inquiries made about Mr. Veriker, and 
he purposly kept back the notice of his death, which 
Christopher had suggested he should send to the Times 
newspaper. 

Even a ramble in the grounds was not viewed by Mr. 
Blunt with favor. 

‘‘ I think IM keep myself pretty much to the house,” 
he said, ‘‘ at least ’till after Sunday, ” and when Robin 
pleaded the want of air, he proposed another round of 
the gardens together. 

Wearied beyond anything she had ever dreamed of 
in her life ; with no one to speak to but Christopher, 
never a voluble companion, and this terrible old man 
calling on her for admiration from morning until night 
— alas, poor Robin ! 

To whom could she turn ? Not to Christopher — a 
sense of delicacy forbade her speaking to him about 
his father, besides, Christopher was so supremely 
happy. He loved Wadpole ; the quiet country life was 
suited to his tastes, and now that Robin was there he 
had nothing left to desire. The utter absence of all 
refinement in Mr. Blunt, his vulgarity in speech and 
manner, although at times more distressing to his son 
than to any other creature, Christopher had become 
accustomed to, and therefore he suffered from no 
shock such as that felt by Robin. True it was that, 
filled with anxiety to know what she would think of 
his father, the first day or so had been trying; but 
since then, seeing the old man more attentive than he 
had ever before known him, and Robin listening, 
smiling, and good-humored, the good fellow had re- 
joiced, thinking how well they were getting on. He 
had said to Robin, reminding her that he always 
told her she would find out the way to manage his 
father. 

‘‘ I dare say it will be different when I come to know 
the people round,” the poor child thought, trying to 


ROBIN, 


14S 


administer some comfort to herself ; that Miss Tem- 
ple we met riding, I feel as if I should like herd’ 

“ Christopher,” she asked aloud, ‘‘ what is the name 
of the Miss Temple we passed yesterday, when we were 
out driving ? ” 

Miss Georgy Temple,” said Christopher, absently. 
His thoughts were fixed on a proposition he had 
made that his father should allow him a certain sum a 
year. 

“ Do you think she is likely to call upon us soon ? ” 

“ Very soon, I should say : the rector has always 
seemed disposed to be friendly, and through Cameron 
I got rather to know Miss Georgy.” 

Uncle ” — she would not call him father ; he did not 
like her saying Mr. Blunt — “ says all the people will 
come next week ; do you think so } ” 

“ Most likely ; and for that reason I am proposing to 
run up to London to-morrow with father.” 

“ Oh, do ! ” the words were out before Robin knew 
she had said them ; the thought of a. day alone seemed 
to lift a ton weight from off her. 

It is only a matter of business that I should like to 
see in train to be settled, that makes me wish to go. I 
was hesitating, from the fear that you might be dull 
perhaps.” 

Christopher spoke — so Robin thought — as if he was 
a little hurt by her. 

No ; I am sure to find something to do, and it is 
much better you should go now, than be away next 
week, you know.” 

“ That is what father said — but I don’t know — per- 
haps it is best, though ; when next week came I should 
be just as unwilling to go as now. I shall never want 
to leave your side, Robin — if you want to get rid of me 
you’ll have to send me away.” 

She made a faint smile to do duty for words. Why 
could she not feel like that ? she wanted to ; instead of 
which her heart seemed like a feather at the bare pos- 
sibility of being left free for a day — a whole day with- 
out Christopher or his father. 


ROBIN. 


149 


That evening, later, the plan being arranged and the 
time of their departure settled on, Mr. Blunt, when 
giving orders, said : “ About you, Robin — what’ll you 
do to-morrow ? I suppose you’ll want something to take 
you out ? ” 

‘‘ No I shan't ; don’t order any carriage for me.” 

She was only too thankful of the reprieve. 

‘‘ I shall stay at home ; I have heaps of things to 
amuse me here, while you are gone.” 

Mr. Blunt looked his satisfaction ; he felt sure this 
act of self-denial was made in obedience to his wishes. 

‘‘ You’ll come to the station with us ?” Christopher 
said. 

Robin shook her head. 

“No, no,” said Mr. Blunt decisively; “she’s much 
better at home, as she says, and I shan’t forget her, 
you’ll see,” and he looked smilingly at Robin. “ I’ll 
bring you back something from London that’ll pay you 
for us being away.” 

So on the morning — a heaven born day, all nature 
awake and rejoicing — in the morning, to catch the 1 1 
o’clock train, the father and son set off to drive to the 
station. From the terrace which fronted the house 
Robin watched them down the avenue, at the end of 
which Christopher turned and waved good bye to her, 
then out through the lodge-gates they went and were 
lost to sight. 

Half-way along the road leading to the town, they 
overtook Miss Georgy Temple riding, walking her horse 
so as to keep pace with the new Squire, who, as they 
had been told, had returned to Wadpole a couple of 
days before. 

Turning to see what it was coming behind them, the 
two separated so that the carriage might pass between, 
and as it did so. Miss Georgy bade them a friendly 
‘ Good-morning; ” adding, “glad to see you back, Mr. 
Christopher.” 

The two Blunts raised their hats ; the Squire, who 
had fallen back a pace, affected not to be looking at 
them. 


T50 


ROBIN, 


“I say, Jack, you’ll have to know those people.’* 5 
They had again joined company. ‘^You need not | 
make old Blunt a bosom friend, but you can afford to J 
be civil to them in a way.” \ 

‘‘ I don’t see for what reason.” [ 

Well, one reason is the son ; he’s a very good fel- i 
low.” \ 

“ He’s got a beast for a father.” | 

“ Never mind ; as a make-weight he ’s got a beauty 
for a wife — she is indeed ; I caught a look at her pass- J 
ing on Thursday, and she’s sweetly pretty. Oh, yes, 
you may grin, my dear fellow, but wait until you see 
her.” 

‘‘ That won’t be just now then ; I’m off on Satur- 
day.” 

‘‘ Not really.” 

‘‘ Yes, really : I only came down to say good-bye to 
you.” 

“ Shall you be gone long ! ” 

Miss Georgy turned her eyes on the Squire fixedly, 

“ That depends,” he said, looking straight at her, 
answering her gaze. 

‘‘H’m ! I’m not generally a bit curious. Jack, but I 
should like to know what is taking you abroad.” 

Should you ? ” He was smiling meaningly. Well, 

I dare say, some day you will see the object I have for 
going.” 

“ I believe I know ; I’m almost certain that I have 
guessed right.” 

‘‘ I shouldn’t wonder.” 

Well, shall I tell you what I think ? ” 

“ You may,” 

“ Will you tell me if it’s true ? ” 

“ I don’t promise that.” 

Isn’t the Manor going to have a mistress at last ? ” 

“ When the master marries I suppose it will.” 

“ And isn’t the master going away to get married, 
eh?” 

“ Let me see, this is the way I am going back. 


ROBIN, 


151 

Good-bye, Georgy. Your mother has asked me to 
dine with you : a ce soir. Farewell.” 

But she would not let go the hand he had given her. 

‘‘ Havenh I guessed right ” she said. “ Tell me.” 

Tell you what ? I’ll tell you this, if you don’t take 
care you’ll get hanged for a witch.” 

‘‘ Didn’t I say so 1 ” she said triumphantly, but Jack 
had jumped over the stile, and Georg}^, touching up 
her horse, rode away saying to herself, “ So that’s what 
is taking you back, is it 1 I heard you telling papa it 
was some business you had left unfinished when you 
came away.” And Jack, looking back after he had 
gone some distance, paused for a moment, divided 
between regret that he had said so much and the wish to 
say more. 

Somehow, he was so full of Robin that day ; which- 
ever way his thoughts strayed they always led to her. 
The soft air, the bright sun, the cloudless sky, had 
each its influence. He had walked to where a dip in 
the road led two ways ; there were a few trifling matters 
to be settled with his agent, and he turned his face 
towards Wadpole, took a few steps in that direction, 
and then whirled round. 

I should like to look at the old wood again,” he 
said ; I haven’t been there since I came back. It was 
such a haunt of mine when I was a boy,” and he hum- 
med to himself a favorite tune as he went ; and thinking 
still of Robin, her spirit seemed to bear him company 
on the way. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

In company with Mr. Blunt, Robin had been taken 
all over the garden, and what he was pleased to call 
the pleasure-grounds,” but beyond that he did not 
care to go. There was nothing to see down there, he 
said, referring to the thicket, below which stood a dark 
spot between the two sloping stretches of green, The 


152 


ROBIN. 


place had been let go wild, run over with blackberry- •• 
bushes and brambles, that tore the very clothes off your ^ 
back if you tried to get through them ; besides, that 
was the place the squire chose to say belonged to him ■ 
— “ So let him have it,’’ he added. ‘‘ Don’t you go ; 
near it, Robin.” 

And Robin had said No ” but now, on this morning, ^ 
when spring seemed born, and all that had lain dormant ' 
and still through the long winter had leaped into life ^ 
again, Robin‘s desire led her to seek where Nature/:^ 
reigned supreme. The birds were there, singing in , 
those trees ’mid which their nests were built, and quick * 
as the thought came pictured the delight of stealthily ' 
creeping up and peeping in to see the little feathered ■ 
fledglings as they lay. 

There below, under the shelter of those stretched-out 
boughs — mostly hawthorns and giant shrubs, grown ; 
thick and tall because no hand had curbed their lavish . 
spread — what wealth of flowers sprang up before her 
eyes : primroses, bluebells, woodsorrel, violets ! Already, 
with steps whose fleet impatience — while within range 
of watching eyes — she vainly strove to curb, Robin was 
flying across the lawn, and as she went she sang — for 
the chill of sorrow’s hand seemed, for the first time to 
thoroughly let go its hold — and her heart, released, • 
rejoiced with all around, and joined in the glad pman 
which welcomed back life again. Oh, unison of Youth 
and Spring ! Winter is past, sorrow is forgotten ; summer 
is near, happiness is at hand. 

Down through the grass, but partly dried of dew— 
which here and there sparkled like heaps of jewels 
caught by a beam of light — Robin ran, marking her 
path by this tree or by that, against which she clung, 
and panting paused for breath; then knitting herself 
close, quick as a fawn she made a leap across the half- 
choked brook, and laughed aloud to find herself safe 
on the other side. And now the thicket must be got 
into, the barriers forced that guard its outer edge , 
braml^les, whose long trails have caught the wandering 
shrubs and bowed their aspiring heads to nail them to 


ROBIN, 


153 


the ground ; furze, dried and withered under the weight 
; of some strong sloe that, pushing it aside, has broken 
down the line, to stand thrust out of view. Here is a 
little gap by which, with many a wriggle, one might get 
one’s body through. Beyond, while stooping to make 
search of entry of some kind, Robin has had peeps of 
moss-grown mounds and heaps of autumn leaves, from 
I out of whose brown crispness pale primrose heads are 
peeping, and, like the child she is, her tongue goes 
babbling to them. 

‘‘You think I cannot get at you,” she says ; “ But I 
am coming. You will see me soon.” 

Her head has poked itself well through, her hat she 
has flung across the furze, and, but that a bramble 
catches Tier by the skirt, she would have been inside ere 
now. 

“You naughty, wicked thorns to try and keep me 
back.” Her nimble fillers — quick to set her free — 
fling the trails aside with all her force of strength, and 
scrambling up, she goes on her way to where an ancient 
holly stands, embraced from the neighboring bank by 
suckers of the roses there. “ Now, you must go aside ! ” 
Robin, impatient, brooked no more delay. With both 
her hands she freed the opening wide, and then — 
there was a pause — a cry, and she was caught within 
the arms of Jack, whose heart, set beating by sounds of 
what he knew not, had drawn him close, and brought 
them face to face. O Time ! hold back thy sands ; O 
Love ! spread quick thy wings. 

“ Jack ! ” 

“ Robin ” 

Still holding hands, the two had drawn apart, and 
there stood gazing bewildered, each putting questions 
without waiting a reply. 

The look which Jack cast upon the gown she wore 
seemed to give Robin the key. 

“ We’ve lost him, Jack,” she cried ; “ he’s gone — he’s 
dead. 

“ Dead ! ” 

“ Ah, I knew how sorry you would be.” 


154 


ROBm, 


Jack had turned deathly pale. 

“ Sometimes I wondered, when you knew, whether 
you’d try and find me out.” 

He could not speak ; a horrible tremor had seized 
him within. 

‘‘ I didn’t write because ” she stopped, the tears, 

blinding her eves, fell down like rain. “ What was the 
use } If you had come, what could you do No one 
could bring him back to me — and there was Christopher 
to manage all the rest.” 

‘‘ My God ! ” 

To get her handkerchief Robin had let go Jack’s 
hand, and down it fell, nerveless, at his side. 

‘‘ My God ! ” he repeated. 

He saw it all ; a flash had brought the thing, as it 
was, before him, with all its chain of evidence com- 
plete. The uncle written to, who turned all he touched 
to money, was this Blunt ; the .son who had married the 
young girl, Christopher ; the father who died on the 
wedding-day was Veriker; and she who but a minute 
since seemed locked up in his heart’s safe keeping, 
waiting for him there, he now stood looking at, 
another’s wife. He staggered back as if a blow had 
struck him. 

Robin stretched out her hands, but before they 
touched him he had pushed them aside, and down over 
his face the gathering cloud settled, his mouth tight- 
ened, his brow lowered. 

Are you married ? ” he said, harshly. 

Robin’s face flushed, for in the tone a reproach 
seemed flung. 

Yes,” she said. “lam married to Christopher 
Blunt.” 

Jack’s nostrils quivered. Was it contempt that made 
him look at her like that ? 

“ What else was there for me to do ? ” she added. 

“ They told me that ease, comforts, having all he 
needed, might save him. How were these to be got ? 
We were penniless, there was not a soul to turn to, I 
was friendless and alone*’* 


ROBIN, 


155 


If ever guardian angel fought for man, Jack’s now 
did battle nobly. 

Tell her your love,” the tempter cried ; say why 
you left, say you were going to seek her.” 

“ Leave her in peace,” whispered the better voice ; 
“ knowing her love was yours, stain not her innocence 
by giving it life again.” 

Did your father wish you to get married ? how did 
you see — this man ? ” 

‘‘ He came to Venice to see us, to seek us out, was 
good and kind to him beyond anything my words could 
tell you.” 

“ And is he kind to you ? ” 

Oh what an effort to get out the words, the clutch 
that caught his throat at the bare thought of her being 
happy ! 

“ Yes, very kind ; there is nothing he would not do 
to try and make me happy.” 

He nodded his head. 

“ Are you happy ? ” he asked after a pause, and the 
words were jerked out, strained and husky. 

Robin’s eyes avoided him. 

— “ I think, yes, I was growing to be,” she said faintly. 

Was growing was growing ! that fiend voice would 
drive him mad, fevering his blood with fifty wild 
temptations. 

Did you know that I had written to your father 
that I was coming here ? ” 

She shook her head ; her eyes were turned away. 

“ I don’t know now why you are here. Didn’t you 
come to — to — seek after me ? ” 

“ Then your father never showed you the letter that 
I sent, telling him that my uncle was ill ? ” (she was 
looking, listening now). He was Mr. Chandos, the 
late Squire, who died. My name is Chandos now. I 
am the Squire here.” 

‘‘ You, Jack ? You ! What, will you live here — live 
here near me ? Is it possible ? Oh ? ” 

Words were not given to tell the transports of such 
joy. Christopher, her past troubles, her present sur- 


156 


ROBIN. 


roundings all vanished, swallowed up in the delight 
that she and Jack would be together again ; together to 
talk of bygone days, to go over things they had done, 
places they had seen. 

Jack, standing there, was the embodiment of all that 
past which of late had been growing daily more dear 
to Robin. 

The anguish he had caused her, the tears she had 
shed for him, were forgotten. Already the grass was 
beginning to show green on the grave of that memory, 
and it was to the old master — teacher — she gave wel- 
come, with the thought that the same friendship which 
had existed then would continue now. 

Jack laughed, and it was a hard, bitter laugh he 
gave. 

You seem to forget that you have a husband now. 
I’m not so sure how he and I should agree.” 

“ Oh ! no one could fall out with Christopher.” 

‘‘ Indeed ? I have managed already to pick a very 
respectable quarrel with his father.” 

Robin’s face turned scarlet. Until that moment it 
seemed to her she had never throughly realized how 
vulgar Mr. Blunt was. 

“ Christopher is not at all like him,’ she said falter- 
ingly. 

“ Isn’t he ? ” Jack answered drily. 

And there was a pause — Jack still battling, Robin 
hesitating. It had come to her that she ought to speak 
of Christopher, to say something that would assure 
Jack of his goodness. It was disloyal, ungrateful, in 
her to permit anyone — least of all Jack — to suppose 
that Christopher resembled his father ; besides which, 
there was something in Jack’s tone, each time she 
referred to her marriage, that jarred upon Robin, that 
stirred her with the sense that she ought to say some- 
thing in defence of the husband who had been so 
generously good to her. 

“ I don’t know how it was,” she faltered, not knowing 
liow to begin, ‘‘but neither of us, he nor I, ever spoke 


ROBIN, 


157 


of you to Christopher. I don’t think he ever heard 
your name.” 

“ So much the better. He need not hear it now.” 

How not hear it now } ” 

Robin’s eyes were fixed on him in surprise. 

I mean that he need not hear it from you. I am 
leaving here to-morrow — leaving for a very long time” 
— he might forego her love, but he must see that he 
could still make her suffer — ‘‘ perhaps never to return.” 

“ Never to return !” 

The light went out of her eyes, her face grew blank, 
her mouth quivered as she spoke. 

“ Doesn’t it strike you,” he said harshly, “ that it’s 
best I should go ? ” 

She did not answer him. 

“ Oh, women ! women ! ” he cried in thought, ‘‘ What 
fools men are to suffer for them ! ” 

It tortured him to believe that Robin could calmly 
contemplate the renewal of that mere friendly inter- 
course which once existed between them. If he could 
but make sure that she had not forgotten, had not 
entirely overcome the love which he knew he had once 
held entirely his own, he could leave her more con- 
tented. 

What good would there be in my remaining here 
he said. “ You would be as far off from me as though 
the ocean rolled between us.” 

Was that true ? Robin’s heart was quickened by a 
crowd of new emotions — regret, reproach, compunction 
all rose up, battling within her. 

‘‘ You have a husband now,” Jack added ; “ one who 
you tell me is good, kind, fond of you. No doubt you 
care for him in return ? ” Between each sentence he 
made pause. Did he hope she would contradict him ? 

Robin did not say a word. 

“ But why need I ask the question ? ” Jack was 
growing desperate. ‘‘ If you had not cared for him — 
had not thought he could make you happier than any 
one else could — you would not have married him. I 


58 


ROBIN. 


was not so very far off but a letter would have reached 
me/’ 

“ A letter about what ? ” she said. How could you 
have helped us ? In those days you were no better off 
than we were.” 

That’s true ! I forgot that money always wins the 
day.” 

Robin’s face was aflame. 

“You dare to say that to me she said. ‘‘Jack, 
you have grown cowardly.” 

“No, I have only grown desperate,” he said. “And 
what wonder, when I see you sacrificed to a man who 
made you the price of his seemimg generosity. Oh, 
you may shake your head in denial ; but if not, why 
did he insist on marrying you, knowing that you had 
no love for him ?” 

“ He did not insist. No, Jack ; it was I who insisted 
when I knew that he wished it, and that we both must 
live dependent on him. I would have it so. I would 
marry him,” 

“ Your father deceived me,” Jack exclaimed passion- 
ately. “ He wrote me a letter saying you were to leave 
Venice ; that you were going in search of some place 
where you might live quietly. What did he mean by 
that ? At that very time this man must have been 
with you.” 

“ I don’t know,” she said. “ He never told me that 
he had written to you.” 

“Nor that I had written to him.? Oh, I see it all 
now.” 

Jack’s anger was mastering him. 

“ I was being cheated, fooled, made a dupe of ! 
This fellow was the very son-in-law he wanted — the 
one I advised him to look out after.” 

Not knowing what had passed between the two, the 
words cut Robin to the quick. 

“ He took your advice then, you see, and I have to 
thank him for it,” she added, proudly. “ I have a 
husband good and kind, generous to me beyond any- 
thing I can say ; and gathering up her strength for a 


ROBIN. 


159 


final effort, she said looking at him fixedly : “ I would 
not change Christopher for any other man living.’’ 

Did that stern, pale face belong to Robin ? could 
those eyes that Jack had seen melting with love, flash 
forth such fire 1 A fresh agony writhed his heart ; this 
new variety but added to her beauty. He felt himself 
growing sick, giddy ; his self-control was abandoning 
him ; in another instant he would have to fling himself 
at her feet, implore her pity, entreat her not to forsake 
him. He had no more strength left then to wrestle 
with the horrible dread of giving way to his madness. 

Bending his head as if in acknowledgement of what 
she had said, he managed to force out ', 

“ I think it would be better that I no longer detained 
you.” 

Robin, oblivious of everything but the effort needed 
for her own control, made a gesture of assent. They 
were standing each as it were looking at the other ; yet 
the eyes of both were averted. 

I can but offer you my somewhat tardy congratu- 
lations and wishes for a continuance of your present 
prosperity and happiness. I am not likely to see you 
again, therefore we shall be spared the awkwardness of 
future meeting.” He paused. “ Good-bye, Robin.” 

‘‘ Good-bye, Jack.” 

How long had he stood waiting for those words to 
come — an instant, minute, hour ? He could not tell, 
only he knew that as she spoke she raised her eyes, and 
up there leaped in him a giant whose name until half- 
way through the wood Jack did not stay to ask. 

The crackling boughs and leaves, and rustle of the 
branches as he went madly on his way, proclaimed his 
flight to her he left behind. 

Whether in love or anger. Jack was gone, and Robin 
stood alone. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


With just enough consciousness left to remember 
that on the road — into which from out of the thicket he 


i6o 


ROBIN, 


would presently emerge — he might possibly meet per- 
sons walking, Jack endeavored to collect himself a little, 
to get his face into more everyday order, and to pull 
himself together again. This done, he walked on, his 
thoughts still so completely in mastery of his other 
senses that his usually quick ear did not catch sound of 
a horse’s hoofs, suddenly put into motion, galloping 
quickly away. 

Close to the hedge which on one side skirts the 
mound where the three roads meet, only a short time 
before Georgy Temple might have been seen, standing 
raised in her stirrup, gazing intently at two figures who, 
while taking a survey of the thicket, had caught her 
eyes and arrested her attention. 

To the casual passer-by the enclosure below was 
merely indicated by the clumped-together tops of irreg- 
ularly grown trees ; but Georgy, familiar with every 
landmark round, knew of a dwarfed, particular thorn, 
through the cleft stems of which you could get sight of 
the one really clear spot that the tangle beneath boasted 
of. 

In olden days had she not often scrambled up that 
hedge in hopes of spotting Jack below } The smile 
that played around her mouth was brought there by the 
recollection of a certain whistle she used to give, at- 
tained by great pains and much practice, and gloried 
in, because, try as he did, stretching his mouth, with 
both his fingers in, as big as clowns. Jack could pro- 
duce no sound. 

Georgy laughed outright; what a hoyden she had 
been, more of a boy than Jack himself! Dear old 
Jack I she was very glad to have him back again; and 
then she gave a little shrug, for the conversation they 
had had came back to her mind, and feeling certain 
that he meant by going away to bring back a wife, 
she sighed to think he couldn’t live contented without 
more of womankind — “but there, we’re queer beings 
all of us.” 

Evidently now her thoughts were centered on herself. 
“I remember that I had quite decided that as soon as 


ROBIN. 


i6i 


I grew up I would marry Jack; and it never entered 
into my arrangements to suppose that he would say 
‘No/ ’’ 

While making these reflections she had pulled up 
before the particular spot. Was the opening still visible? 
Where the leaves grew thick they hid it out of view. 
From where she sat she thought that she ought to be 
able to see, and she raised herself, seemed filled with 
sudden surprise, bettered her position, and then re- 
mained transfixed. 

Surely it was Jack ? — of that there could be no mis- 
take; but the other ? was it — yes, certainly it was, that 
movement ended the doubt — it was the bride, the new 
Mrs. Blunt. What were they doing there ? standing 
evidently talking to each other so earnestly. 

Before Georgy had time to imagine any answer to 
her questions. Jack suddenly wheeled round — he was 
gone; and Georgy, not wishing then to meet him, 
touched up her horse and turned his head towards an 
opposite road, half-way down which she branched off 
by a lane that would bring her out close to the Manor 
gates. 

She had rightly calculated; a little ahead she saw 
Jack walking, and quickening her pace she seemed to 
accidently overtake him. 

‘Well,’^ she said, ‘‘have you managed your business 
satisfactorily ?” 

For the instant, had a kingdom depended on it. 
Jack could not remember what, when he parted with 
her, he had said he was going to do. 

“Oh yes,^’ he answered confusedly; “ that is, IVe 
changed my plans.’’ 

It would never do for him to dine that evening — as 
he had been asked to — at the rectory. He couldn’t 
be himself, and talk of indifferent things to a lot of 
people. Like many men of the world whose feelings 
are but seldom roused, whenever they were, his s avoir 
faire seemed completely to desert him. 

“I’m very glad to have met you, Georgy,” he began, 
“because if you don’t mind, it will save me a walk up 


II 


ROBIN, 


162 

to your mother. Would you tell her from me that I 
shall not be able to dine with you this evening ? I find 
I must start from here at once by the 6:40 train; it 
won’t do for me to stay until to-morrow. Tell her I 
am awfully sorry, will you ? but that I am really forced 
to go.” 

For once Georgy, generally so ready, could find noth- 
ing a p 7 ' op os to answer. 

‘‘Certainly I will,” she said curtly; then after a 
moment’s pause, “Are you going round to the lodge ? 
ril walk Jacob alongside you.” 

“Do,” said Jack, inwardly wishing that she and 
Jacob were at Jericho. 

“What has made you so suddenly change your 
mind? she said, as soon as they were going on 
together. “Where have you been since I left you ?” 

“Been ! oh, to heaps of places, and there are ever so 
many more where I ought to go;” and then meeting 
her look of inquiry, he continued, “And as to changing 
my mind, I don’t know that my mind is changed; only 
1 must go — and when you’re resolved, what is the use 
of delaying?” 

Georgy laughed. 

“Positively, ’’she said, “one might believe you were 
tearing yourself away, that you had some motive for 
going.” 

“Motive ! what do you mean by motive ? What pos- 
sible motive could there be, except the one that pleases 
me ? I don’t understand you.” 

“ No ! ” and she smiled at him meaningly ; “ perhaps 
we don’t understand each other.” 

What on earth was the girl driving at ! Surely no 
nonsense of any kind about him could have entered 
her head. 

“ My dear,” he said gravely, “ a great many people 
often jump at very wrong conclusions concerning each 
other.” 

She made a movement as if surprised at such an 
assertion. 

“ Yes, and yourself,” he went on, “ among the 


ROBIN, 


163 


number. Only this morning at the Crossfields, when 
we were parting, you began throwing out hints about 
my going away ; asking if it wasen’t because I thought 
of marrying. Well, once for all I may tell you that 
nothing is further from my mind ; but you know I was 
always very fond of traveling. I should be cramped to 
death to settle down here. I like a life of freedom, 
and freedom and marriage don’t agree ; besides which, 
have you forgotten that the Squires of Wadpole have 
mostly died old bachelors ? ” 

Georgy assumed an attitude of utter despair. Bending 
towards Jack she held out her hand to him. 

‘‘ Farewell, Jack,” she said, mocking emotion. “ Good- 
by ; to drown my disappointment I must set off at once 
in search of the deepest water.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

When Mr. Blunt and Christopher returned late that 
evening it was to hear from the servants that Mrs. Blunt 
had not felt well, she had gone out into the grounds 
during the morning, but since her return she had kept 
her room. 

“ Best send for Heywood at once,” said Mr. Blunt 
fussily. 

Christopher begged him to wait until he had been up 
and seen Robin ; and a few minutes later, he reappeared 
to say that she felt better now she had been lying down. 
She complained of headache, but would try and eat 
some dinner. 

“ Why, you’re looking as white as a ghost,” was Mr. 
Blunt’s salutation, cheerily spoken, as if the sight of 
her pale face gave him immense satisfaction. 

You haven’t been over-fatiguing yourself now 
while we’ve been away, have you ^ ‘ cos that’ll never 
do.” 

Robin hastened to disown the supposition. 

“ I only walked a very little way,” she said ; “ I didn’t 


164 


ROBIN. 


go out of the gates at all, so it couldn’t be that.” 

“I’m very glad you didn’t ; you might have chanced 
on that Chandos, perhaps, swaggering about.” 

Jack’s manner of ignoring them, and avoiding, as 
Mr. Blunt thought, an introduction to Christopher, had 
rankled within him all day. 

“ He’s no gentleman that, I say, or when he met us 
he wouldn’t have acted as he did.” 

“ Very likely he felt it a little awkward,” put in 
Christopher, “ and the carriage passed so quickly by 
that there was really no need for his speaking.” 

“ How d’ye mean no need } Miss Georgy could speak, 
why couldn’t he ? You haven’t done nothing to offend 
him ? ” 

Mr. Blunt, not in the best of humors, was glad of 
something to let off steam about. He had been in a 
state of ferment all day, for under the plea of other 
business, Christopher had made this the opportunity of 
asking his father what, now he was married, he thought 
of doing for him. He considered he ought to have a 
separate income, and — at best a poor diplomatist — at 
once discovered his motive by saying he wished it on 
account of Robin, so that in case anything happened to 
him she would have an independence settled upon her. 

“ Independence ! what, you mean something inde- 
pendent of me ? ” asked the wary father. 

“ Exactly so,” said the simple son. Upon which 
Mr. Blunt desired that he might be informed of the 
exact requirements demanded of him, advising that the 
sum should be talked over with Robin and reserving 
to himself until then to give his answer. 

All day long the proposition haunted him. Up to 
this time Christopher had never dropped a hint of 
needing such an arrangement. In his own case he had 
been contented with what his father gave him and the 
interest — about £ 206 3, year — of some house-property 
which a distant relation of his mother’s had left to 
him. 

Could Robin have put him up to make this demand ? 
Seeing it was to be settled on herself, Mr. Blunt 


ROBIN. 


165 

thought it not unlikely. Several times leading up to 
the question, he had beaten the bush to try and get 
the truth from Christopher, but his son evidently did 
not understand him, and feeling it would be unwise to 
ask the direct question, Mr. Blunt had been compelled 
to swallow his curiosity. To a man so dispositioned 
this acted irritably on his temper, and he was in a 
mood to find fault when the sight of Robin’s evident 
indisposition turned his thoughts to another channel ; 
but though for her sake he might spare those present, 
there was no occasion to hold his tongue about the 
Squire, and he continued to rake up the dispute about 
the thicket, what he had not said to him, and what he 
should like to say to him, until Christopher noting 
Robin’s face grow paler and that she sat quite silent, 
said, in hopes of silencing him : 

“ Oh, well, never mind now ; it won’t matter in the 
least what you think of him or he thinks of you. I 
saw Cameron in at Topham’s, and he told me that Mr. 
Chandos went off by the 6:40 train ; he saw him down 
at the station , he was going to try and get the night 
train from London. I don’t know what night train 
nor where he was going, but to some place abroad at a 
long distance ; and how long he may stay or when he 
will return seemed quite uncertain.” 

Mr. Blunt said something to express his satisfaction, 
but what, Christopher did not heed. The alteration in 
Robin’s face had attracted his attention. 

“ What is the matter, Robin ? ” 

He got up and went towards her. 

“ You’re not feeling well ; what is it — tell me ? ” 
Seized with a mad desire to push him away, Robin 
had to make an effort at control. 

‘‘ I don’t know,” and she gave a ghastly smile. “ I 
felt so much better when I came down. I think it’s 
the smell of the dinner must have upset me. 

“ That’s it,” said Mr. Blunt, confidentially, it 
often does so, my dear ; it’s turned you sick, I dare 
say.” 


i66 


ROBIN. - 


‘‘ Yes/’ said Robin, catching at any excuse for going 
away. 

‘‘ I shall have to go back to my own room again ; 
only, Christopher, don’t you come.” Her voice 
sounded quite sharply. “ Jennings is upstairs ; she 
will attend to me.” 

A little hurt, Christopher lacked the assurance to 
follow her ; he fancied she spoke as if she did not wish 
him to come. He went as far as the foot of the stairs, 
watched that she ran quickly up, and then returned to 
the dinner-table. 

“ I hope there is nothing the matter with her,” he 
said anxiously. 

‘‘ And I hope there is,” said his father pointedly. 
“ So there’s the difference between me and you and 
then he emptied his glass as if drinking a health, 
smacked his lips, and had it filled again. We’ll go 
to-morrow and get Heywood to drop in as he’s passing 
here — just make a call ; he needn’t to say nothing.” 

‘‘ Oh, no; there’ll be no occasion for that.” 

Christopher spoke hastily ; he was frightened as to 
what Robin might feel. 

It’s not likely to be anything but a headache, 
which I dare say will pass off by the morning ; if it 
should not. I’ll ask her what she would like me to do.” 

The presence of the servants restrained Mr. Blunt 
from indulging in the outburst to which he would have 
liked to treat his son. Leaning back in his chair, he 
swelled out his portly person and made a continuous 
chirrup with his lips, as was his wont when imploring 
a sympathetic Providence to grant him patience. 

All his thoughts, his hopes, his wishes, were centred 
now in the desire that he should speedily see children 
born to Christopher, heirs who would relieve him of 
that terrible anxiety he always suffered whenever any- 
thing ailed his son. 

The prospect of a fine sturdy boy to dandle on his 
knee softened his heart, and he spent the evening in 
building castles, arranging his affairs, and drinking a 
great deal more hot grog than was good for him. 


ROBIN, 


167 


Robin during this time was going through all those 
torments we endure when our doubts and fears are 
turned to certainties. Until those casual words dropped 
by Christopher about Jack’s departure, the poor heart 
had not known how desperately it had clung to the hope 
of his remaining. 

Even while she had continued to say to herself, He 
will go, we shall not meet again,” the certainty that he 
would remain contradicted her. 

Now he was gone — gone for years — perhaps forever. 
Oh, she had so counted on his presence ? Together 
they could bring back those dear departed days, to- 
gether live them over again. With Jack she could 
open her heart freely, speak of her father, ask counsel 
about Christopher, give vent to the repugnance she felt 
creeping over her towards Mr. Blunt. 

During the weary months that followed on their last 
separation, Robin had well schooled herself in the cer- 
tainty that, in the way she had wanted. Jack could not 
care for her; very tenderly and humbly she had sought 
to strangle the love he had called into being, and be- 
lieving it to be dead, she had buried it in a grave 
which she had long kept green by watering it with her 
tears. 

Sorrow, altered circumstances, fresh surroundings, 
all had combined to distract her ; so that when she 
found herself brought face to face with Jack, it was the 
friend she gave welcome to, the old companion of her 
early years, without any embarrassment that she had 
ever made him her lover. 

To Jack’s manner was due the rankling which she 
now felt, mingled with her suffering. His tone, his 
looks, the words he had let drop, had all fallen as seeds 
of discontent amid what had been hitherto satisfaction ; 
the drop of honey in her cup of gall had been a certain 
self-complacency, that, although it had proved of no 
avail, she had sacrificed herself to the utmost. 

Suddenly this sweetness had lost its flavor, and she 
was racking herself with questions of why had she mar- 
ried at all } Why had Christopher been thrown in her 


i68 


ROBm. 


way ? Why had she not written to Jack ? Suppose she 
had. What now ? The sigh that came from Robin 
seemed to rend her breast. 

‘‘ Did you speak — say anything ? ’’ 

Christopher had crept softly in, and had remained 
sitting out of sight. 

‘‘ What ! 

A fear clutched her — could she have spoken aloud ! 
She opened her eyes and started up. 

‘‘ Oh, Christopher ! I wish you wouldn’t come and 
frighten me so ! ” she said petulantly, turning herself 
away from him. 

“ Dear, I have been here ever so long ; only before 
you lay so quiet, that when I heard you move and sigh, 
I thought you were awake perhaps, and wanted some- 
thing.” 

No,” Robin could command her actions better than 
her words : she stretched out her hand to him — “ only 
to be left quiet,” she added. 

“ Do you mind me sitting here ” 

“I’d rather you went away.” 

Christopher turned to go. 

Robin was stirred by compunction. 

“ Christopher, you don’t think me unkind, do you ? 
I don’t want to be,” 

“ Unkind ! No : why should I think you unkind be- 
cause you don’t want to be fidgeted by me ? for fidgety I 
am, and always shall be, I fear, whenever the slightest 
thing is the matter with you. The toll we pay for love 
is anxiety.” 

“ But there is nothing to be anxious about. I am not 
ill. 1 haven’t anything the matter with me.” 

“ Nothing the matter ! and you lying here ! that is 
not like my Robin, I am sure.” 

The words were so tenderly spoken that they dropped 
like dew on Robin’s fevered heart. Should she tell 
him — tell him all ? Confide in him about Jack, of her 
meeting with him, and who he had proved to be } 

She hesitated ; a something which she would not 
own, which she resolutely turned away from her, rose 


ROBIN', 


169 


unbidden and held her back. She knew that she might 
trust Christopher, that he was worthy of her confidence, 
it was not that which stopped her, it was something in 
herself. Still, after all, perhaps . . . 

The opportunity was gone. Christopher, recalling 
what she had said, pressed her hand with his lips, and 
before she had fully made up her mind what she would 
do, he turned away and went out of the room. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Robin's appearance at breakfast the next morning, 
recovered and her usual self, disowning any remaining 
trace of indisposition, and laughing at the bare idea of 
having a doctor to see her, did not tend to improve the 
bad temper in which Mr. Blunt had arisen. Possibly 
the reaction from his self-indulgence of the night before 
had something to do with his state ; when he went to 
bed his castles were stories high : he had awakened 
with a sense that they were crumbling, and now he 
saw them shattered and laid low. 

Added to this, Sunday was a day which always tried 
him ; its minutes seem to drag themselves out to hours, 
and he was glad of any prospect which offered some 
change of the routine of church-going, in which the ex- 
ample set by his neighbors had to be followed. 

He had intended that Dr. Heywood should have been 
asked to pay his call at luncheon-time ; this would have 
insured him hearing all the gossip for twenty miles 
round. And on his part he had arranged what he 
would say regarding Mr. Chandos, about whom now he 
would no longer keep silent ; he should tell the doctor 
that he was free to repeat his words to anybody, 
and by this means he fancied it not impossible that 
they might reach the ears of the Squire himself. 

As is usually the case when cheerfulness is the result 
of effort^ Robin’s spirits seemed unusually high, and 


170 


ROBIN. 


this in its self aggravated Mr. Blunt and made him 
resentful towards her. 

The suspicion concerning that money transaction 
came back with renewed force ; he felt perfectly con- 
vinced that she had ‘‘ put Christopher up to it/’ and he 
cautioned himself to be on his guard, and keep tight 
hold of the purse-strings, for fear by independence 
his authority might be slackened. Christopher dead, 
Robin left with children, unless he kept some hold 
over her, who could say how she might treat him ? 
‘‘ No, no ?” . It was very well now all was fine weather 
sailing, but he hadn’t forgotten to whom she belonged, 
nor how ‘‘ that who ” had serv^ed him ; and he raked 
among his recollections in search of bygone slights 
and injuries, banking up his ill humor and setting it 
smouldering. 

Unfortunately familiar with the look upon his father’s 
face, Christopher, noting the impatience of his move- 
ments and the surly tone of his voice, felt particularly 
uneasy. 

Up to the presenc time Robin had seen nothing of 
his ill-temper, and whatever rough speech he had 
indulged in had never for a moment rested on her ; but 
this morning she evidently did not please him — his tea 
was too sweet, he had it thrown away ; in the next cup 
given him, she put too much milk ; in each remark she 
made — and, poor soul, what an effort it cost her to 
make one 1 — he found something to contradict, until, 
with that unlucky fate which generally leads persons at 
cross-purposes to touch on some sore subject, Robin, 
reminded by something Christopher said of Sundays 
abroad, referred to a particular one which they all had 
spent in Venice together. Since she had seen Jack her 
father had been so in her thoughts that his name — 
seldom mentioned by her before Mr. Blunt — slipped 
ont inadvertently. 

Christopher, plunging into a long-winded, round- 
about reply, hoped that his father was not going to 
notice it. Illusory supposition ! Mr. Blunt had been 


ROBIN, 


171 

itching for something to be dropped that he could catch 
up and be offensive about. 

His state was by no means singular. In Wad- 
pole that very morning a finger might have been 
placed on a good score of persons, old and young 
of both sexes, who, to their own torment, and the 
torment of their families, felt themselves in a similar 
disposition ; but among them all not one labored 
under the disadvantages which beset Mr. Blunt ; from 
whom, the moment his good-humor forsook him, the 
thin veneering of social polish vanished completely, 
and you saw the man as nature had left him, coarse, 
rough, bullying, with no comprehension of any of 
those finer feelings about which he himself knew 
nothing. 

A great many of the wounds he gave he had no idea 
of giving ; and he prided himself on forgetting the 
injuries he received far sooner than those who had 
injured him and forgave the rebuffs he gave them. 

Only waiting till Christopher had so far delivered 
himself that he might feel certain of commanding 
Robin’s undivided attention, Mr. Blunt gave vent to a 
succession of snorts intended by him as a laugh, but 
which might be taken for anything indicating contempt 
and derision. 

‘‘ That’s good,” he said, “ about Sundays ; he -must 
have precious altered before church-going was anything 
in your father’s way.” 

The sneering tone and manner, more than the words, 
made Robin’s cheeks scarlet ; for a moment she was 
silent ; about her father caring to go to church there 
was nothing she could say. How often, since Chris- 
topher had talked to her had she lamented that she 
had not been more persistent in her urging. It was 
true that at times she had asked him to go with her, 
but when he declined she was quite content that he 
should stay away ; Jack didn’t go, why should he ? In 
those days Jack had been Robin’s standard of morality 
and consistency. 

He never interfered with me though, papa didn’t,” 


172 


ROBIN. 


she said, looking up in reply to Mr. Blunt. When I 
was old enough to do as I liked, and I could go, I 
always went to church every Sunday, more especially 
latterly ; ’’ and in an instant her memory had traveled 
back, and she saw herself setting off to go, because 
perhaps God would listen to her there, would hear her 
prayers better, would spare her father to her. 

A burst of tears followed on her words. 

‘‘Robin! Robin!’’ 

Christopher was beside her. 

“ It’s because it made me think of him,” she sobbed, 
“ and how I used to hope he would get better.” 

Christopher passed his hand tenderly over the bent 
head, trying to soothe her. He knew how uncontrolla- 
bly these bursts of sorrow came, and how bravely she 
tried to subdue them. Already she was wiping their 
traces away. 

“ If you’re going to give way to the habit of every 
time anything’s spoken of treating us to a set-out of 
tears, Robin, it’s best for to know that I for one can’t 
stand it ; I never could in my life and I ain’t going to 
begin now. It’s what I never was accustomed to — 
crying in females, more particularly when there’s noth- 
ing to cry for. It’s true you may have lost your father, 
but that’s in the course of nature. Everybody if they 
live to sooner or later, must some time or nother lose 
their fathers.” 

“Well, of course she knows that,” said Christopher, 
“ although what difference it makes I can’t see. It’s 
only very natural that she should sorrow for him, seeing 
how devoted they were to each other.” 

Mr. Blunt laughed offensively. 

“ Oh well,” he said, “ I suppose it’s the right way ; 
spend every farthing you can lay your hand on ; beggar 
your wife, leave your daughter dependent on charity, 
and you’ll be lamented as the best father that ever was. 
It’s something new to me, though. I’d hoped my 
daughter-in-law would have showed more sense than 
to try and teach me the lesson. I’m willing enough to 
let bygones be bygones. I don’t want to rake up the 


ROBIN. ^ 


m 


past, nor to have names mentioned that I never speak 
of — only, if they are, don’t treat me to a scene which 
leads to a regular upset ; ” and jumping up, he pushed 
back his chair violently, seemed as if he was going out 
of the room, altered his mind and came back again. 

Perhaps he was expecting that she would say some- 
thing. Robin tried to stifle her sense of injury. Her 
eyes, dry of tears now, were opened to the full, bright 
and sparkling ; a spot of color had come out on either 
cheek ; she held her head more than usually erect, and 
her voice, when she spoke, was high-toned. 

I am sorry if I have made you at all uncomfortable, 
uncle,” she said, addressing him. “I will take care it 
does not happen again ; but to speak as you have just 
done of my father to me, is not kind of you.” 

‘‘ Oh, indeed, isn’t it 1 ” said Mr. Blunt, surlily. 
“ Well, I’m the best judge of that.” 

“No, I don’t think you are. I cannot suppose that 
you knew how much it would wound me, or I don’t 
believe that you would have said it.” 

“ I tell you what it is, young lady, you know very 
little about what’s happened between your father and 
me, so the less you take me to task about it the better 
we two shall get on together.” 

His wrath was beginning to increase. Christopher, 
dreading a further display of it, hastened to be peace- 
maker. 

“ Come, come, father,” he said, “ let us say no more 
about the matter. I am sure you must see that Robin 
had no thought of vexing you any more than you 
wished to wound her. So, let’s forget all about it.” 

But, quick to note, Mr. Blunt saw that as he spoke 
he took Robin by the hand, an evidence, to his mind, 
that he sided with her. 

“Two against one,” he thought; “and that’s what 
it will be in future if I don’t put down my foot upon 
it.” So, assuming more displeasure than he positively 
felt, he said : 

“ Easier said than done, at my time of life. You 
must, both of you, try and keep it in mind that I’m 


174 


ROBIN. 


master of this house, and therefore expect to be a little 
studied.’’ 

“ Well, I hope you have had no reason to complain 
of that so far,” said Christopher. “ I’m sure Robin has 
entirely devoted herself to you.” 

Oh, dear, bless me heart ! I don’t want her to make 
a trial of what there’s plenty as good as she, and better 
too, would look upon as a pleasure. There must be 
a fat lot to complain of in eating and drinking of the 
best, having a carriage to ride in, and not being asked 
to soil a finger, especially to one who’s been so very 
much used to that sort o’ thing as she has.” 

It was Christopher’s face that grew scarlet. A glance 
at him showed Robin how his father’s words were pain- 
ing him. In a moment she had gone over to where 
the old man stood, and stretching out her hands to 
him : 

“ Uncle,” she said, you know that is not what 
Christopher means. He knows — and I know too — 
how very kind you have been to me, and if I have in 
any way said anything to offend you, forgive it— only — 
only when — when you speak of my father ” 

Her rising tears began to choke her, and unable to 
stem the torrent, she ran out of the room, leaving the 
father and son alone. 


CHAPTER XXVH. 

Before Robin and Mr. Blunt met again, Christopher 
and he had come to a very decided understanding, the 
result of which was a promise that Mr. Veriker’s name 
should be if possible avoided, or, if spoken of before 
his daughter, should be respected. 

Accustomed to tacit submission from his son, Mr. 
Blunt was not a little surprised to find that in this first 
measure of swords between them, Christopher was 
decidedly the victor. It had not struck him so much 
in the midst of his loud talking and bluster ; but, after, 


ROBm, 


^75 


when he reflected, his sense showed him that he had 
been decidedly worsted. 

‘‘If I don’t take care,” he said, “ between the two of 
them I shall be made a complete puppet of — my word 
won’t be valued more than that ! ” and he snapped his 
fingers figuratively. 

During the whole day the thought stayed by him, 
and kept him silent and brooding, so that Robin and 
Christopher were but little troubled by his company. 

“ Now you mustn’t think any more about it,” the 
good fellow said, fearing that Robin was still dwelling 
on the domestic misadventure ; and observing that, 
though she assured him she had completely forgotten 
the matter, her eyes were heavy, and all she said came 
by effort, he rejoiced when rather late in the evening 
the servant announced Mr. Cameron, who had come, 
as he frankly told them, to see Mrs. Blunt. 

“ Perhaps I ought,” he said, “ to make some apology 
for the lateness of the hour ; but the truth is, that the 
rectory people are coming to-morrow, and I wanted to 
steal a march upon them.” 

“What, the Temples!” exclaimed Robin. “Are 
they coming ? I’m so glad ! I’m looking forward to 
seeing the Temples. To-day at church I so liked the 
look of the children with them.” 

The untidy, run-wild little Spencers had touched a 
chord of sympathy with her own neglected childhood. 

“ I hope Miss Temple will like me. I have taken 
quite a fancy to her.” 

Mr. Cameron laughed, and rubbed his hands 
together delightedly ; and Robin encouraged by some- 
thing in his face or in the movement, and relieved by 
the sense that Mr. Blunt was not there, spoke openly of 
her having had, so far as companions went, a lonely 
childhood ; that she had known but very few girls, 
and had never formed an intimacy with any of them. 
This led to Christopher speaking of his bringing up ; 
in turn Mr. Cameron told them of his early days, and 
somehow the hearts of the three seemed opened out 
to each other, and they went on chatting till the clock 


1/(5 


ROBIN, 


Striking eight made Mr. Cameron jump up in haste to 

go- 

I didn’t know I was stopping so late,” he said. “ I 
have to go to the rectory yet.” 

And then Christopher, having gone with him to the 
door and across the terrace to the steps, in his frank, 
outspoken way he said, holding him by the hand : 

“ I like her — like her very much indeed ; she’s nice 
—very nice ! I believe that your marriage will prove a 
blessing to you, and that you both will be very happy.” 

Christopher’s sensibilities were still sore, and the 
touch, gentle though it was, made them smart again. 

‘‘ I only hope that I may be able to secure happiness 
to her,” he said, a little despondingly ; and looking at 
him Mr. Cameron perceived that his face was troubled. 

“ Is it with your father that you fear a little diffi- 
culty ? ” he asked, with that perception many who 
minister hold, of at once placing the finger on the 
cause of sorrow. 

Christopher’s silence told him that he had guessed 
rightly. 

“ Oh, but you must not let that come between you : 
little outside crosses should only, so it seems to me, 
serve to draw closer together two who love each other. 
You must take courage and show confidence in your- 
self, that she is ready to bear anything for you.” 

The latter part of the sentence had been called forth 
by Christopher’s doubtful shake of the head. 

‘‘ Oh ! ” he said, “ when I look at her it always 
strikes me in the same way, so impossible that she 
should ever care for me as I care for her.” 

More than this little outburst with his father, was a 
certain chill between him and Robin, not the result of 
it, tor he had felt it more particularly the evening 
before, when she had seemed to turn away from him, 
and instead of demanding, had only endured the small 
attentions which, more particularly, seeing she was not 
well, he longed tc . avish on her. 

Mr. Cameron seemed to be reflecting on his words. 


ROBIN. 


177 


Do you mean, because of the difference in outward 
appearance between you ? ’ he asked simply. 

“ Well, yes, for one thing — that is a great stumbling- 
block in the way.’’ 

suppose it is — I don’t know, though, that it had 
occurred to me before to think so ; still, if it’s natural 
to give more admiration to the oak than to the bramble, 
why not to a tall, handsome, ' well-made fellow rather 
than — such as I.” 

“ Or I,” put in Christopher, laughing at what he 
looked on as a change in the pronoun, Depend on 
it,” he added, ‘‘ that good looks go a long way with 
women as well as with us men.” 

“ And yet I don’t know.” Mr. Cameron seemed 
quite interested in the question, I have been thrown 
— more particularly before I came here — among many 
who were counted, by everybody who saw them, beau- 
ties, and yet they never attracted me.” 

‘‘ That I can believe — it happens to us all ; until the 
one particular she comes, whose face our heart reflects, 
and then we feel no other can compare with her.” 

‘‘ Mrs. Blunt is considered by everybody very lovely, 
isn’t she ? ” 

People always appear to admire her, it seems to 
me ” — and his attention caught by Mr. Cameron’s 
earnest manner of inquiry, he added, “ Why ? ” 

‘‘ Oh nothing, nothing, I only wanted to know. 
Good-bye now, good-bye,” and shaking hands, he went 
off hurriedly, leaving Christopher standing watching 
him as he disappeared down the avenue. 

‘‘ He’s an odd fellow,” he soliloquized, ‘‘ but I can 
speak more openly to him than any one I know ; no 
matter what it’s about, he manages to give me sympathy. 
I feel better now, although it’s not from what he has 
said to me. Love isn’t much in his line, I fancy ; he’d 
find it hard, I dare say, to win any woman he wanted 
to marry.” 

Mr. Cameron hastening down to the lodge gate, out 
of it, and along the lane, was saying to himself as he 
went : What an odd thing it was that to him no face 


12 


78 


ROBIN. 


ever seemed able to bear comparison with Georgy 
Temple’s even by the side of this beautiful Mrs. Blunt 
— and while Robin was talking he had been par- 
ticularly attracted by her beauty — he should give the 
preference to Georgy. 

After church that morning, there had been a very 
general discussion of Robin’s appearance, with a uni- 
versal verdict in its favor. Every one who spoke of her 
pronounced that to look at she was charming. 
Georgy was the only one who in any way dissented. 
Nothing about Robin seemed to please her, and, aston- 
ished at such an unaccountable prejudice, Mr.Cameron 
determined at once, by seeking an introduction, to find 
out if there was any reason why she should imply that 
she did not mean to be intimate with her. 

More than favorably impressed by the visit he had 
made, he was now hurrying to the rectory, delighted at 
the good report he should have to give to Georgy, and 
bent upon using all his influence to dispose her to take 
a warm interest in their new neighbor. 

Is Have they finished ?” 

Not able to decide the nature of the Sunday meal, 
which he hoped was over, he found it easier to turn the 
question. 

The domestic who opened the door, without commit- 
ting herself, indicated that they were all in there. At 
this Liberty Hall, Sunday was a day of liberty : servants 
went out or stayed at home, as they felt inclined, and 
the family got what they could when they could, and 
went without what had not been provided for them. 

Opening the door of the dining-room, for the curate 
was too frequent a visitor for it to be thought needful 
to announce him, Mr. Cameron found everybody still 
seated at the table, towards which he advanced with the 
certain assurance of being welcomed, when, overcome 
by amazement, he stopped. His eye did not deceive 
him — there sat the Squire ! 

‘‘ Why — you ! I thought you had gone abroad — to 
stay ever so long ?” 

“ Yes ; did you ?” said Jack, with a happy ignoring 


ROBIN, 


179 


that it was any one’s business to wonder what had 
brought him back. If I move a little nearer to you, 
Georgy, Mr. Cameron will find room by Dora.” 

But Mr. Cameron did not seem disposed to accept 
the place proposed for him. 

“No, don’t disturb yourselves,” he said, without 
moving or taking his eyes off Jack. “Well, you do 
surprise me to find you here,” and though he did not 
make the demand in words, his face asked for some 
explanation. 

With a little look at Jack, whose attention was con- 
centrated on his supper, Georgy came to the rescue. 

“ He came back,” she said, “ because, I think, he 
could not bear to leave me ; or else he has decided to 
break my heart entirely by changing his route and 
going instead to India.” 

“ To India 

“ Yes ; he has a mamma in India. Perhaps you did 
not know that ?” 

She spoke in a tone of banter which seemed to mys- 
tify Mr. Cameron. He suddenly felt out of place, ill 
at ease, the more so because for the moment he could 
not remember what had brought him to the rectory — 
why he had come there. 

“ Oh, I know,” he said in his impulsive way. “ I 
came to speak about the Blunts. I have been making 
a call there — seeing my friend Christopher’s new wife. 
She is very nice. Miss Georgy. I’m sure you’ll like her 
when you know her.” 

“ When I know her, perhaps I shall,” said Georgy, 
with a little scornful screw of her mouth ; “ but I 
thought I had made it plain to you that I had no inten- 
tion of knowing her.” 

A glance at Jack showed her his attention was 
arrested. He looked at them both, quickly, from one 
to the other. 

“ But you told me that you intended to call,” he 
said. 

“ Certainly, I shall have to call with mother, but that 
binds me to nothing, I need never go again.” 


i8o 


ROBIN. 


“That seems a little strange — rather unneighborly ?” 

Glad of an ally, Mr. Cameron had drawn up his chair 
and sat down. He was looking at Jack assentingly. 

“ My dear Jack,^^ and Georgy’s straightforward gaze 
sought his, “ I am just as free to choose my friends as 
you are yours, and, if you remember, you distinctly an- 
nounced your determination of cutting the Blunts alto- 
gether.” 

“ My dear Georgy, permit me to remark that I often 
say a great deal more than I mean, and therefore I warn 
you against taking me an pied la lettreP 

“ It was a pity you tried to influence me, then.” 

“ I never presumed to suppose you would be guided 
by my opinions.” 

“ Really ! And we two — as Miss Boothby remarked 
to mama, to-day — cut out so exactly by Nature, as it 
were, for each other.” 

Mrs. Temple coughed noisily, as if a crumb had gone 
the wrong way. She thought Georgy was showing her 
hand too openly, and wanted to attract her attention. 

“ That’ll do, mother ; I see you frowning at me. 
Mother fears I am wearing my heart too much on my 
sleeve,” she said, turning to Mr. Cameron. 

“ Does she ? ” he said absently. 

He could not make Georgy out to-night, and he 
could not make himself out either. Coming along he 
had felt so happy and jolly ; now he felt miserable and 
discontented. 

“ I suppose, after all, it will be the right thing to do, 
sir, to call on these Blunts ? ” 

Jack was addressing the rector, who, apart from the 
others, was deep in a. paper, puffing out volumes of 
smoke, and drinking deeply of cold tea. 

Notwithstanding his seeming abstraction, he had 
heard, as he always did, every word that was going on 
around him ; only, until actually appealed to, he never 
troubled himself, to enter the list of arguers. 

“ Call on them ; of course you’ll call. You’re not 
the chap you used to be if you’re going to visit the sins 


ROBIN. 


i8i 

of a vulgar old brute of a father on the head of his 
inoffensive son. 

Jack smiled his thanks for his old friend’s good 
opinion. 

“ I’m afraid I’ve made it a little awkward by being 
rather stiff-necked over this dispute about the thicket 
land,” he said. ‘‘ You must try, if you can, to help me 
out in the matter, sir. Tell them I hadn’t a fairy god- 
mother to bestow ‘ on me the gift of good temper.’ ” 

This was an allusion to a story the children had been 
reading to him. 

“ Leave that to me,” said the rector, confidently. 

You don’t know old Blunt yet. He’ll be ready to 
lick the dust off your boots if he can only once get you 
inside his door. But that’s not the case with his son. 
Christopher’s a gentleman, whatever his father may be.” 

“ He has managed to get a very pretty girl for a 
wife,” put in Mrs. Temple, with a certain degree of 
asperity ; “ and if she is at all a lady, he ought to con- 
sider himself a very fortunate young man, for of course 
no one about here would have had him.” 

“ Well, they hadn’t the chance,” said Georgy, see- 
ing he never asked them.” 

‘‘ You don’t know that he never asked them.” 

“ I know that he never asked me.” 

“ Perhaps you wish he had ?” said Jack, teasingly. 

“ No, I don’t. But perhaps you do.” 

a I p ” 

Knowing what Georgy did, Jack a little overdid his 
astonishment. 

‘‘ What possible motive can you have for saying 
that ? ” 

But without making any answer, Georgy moved from 
her seat and went over to the other end of the room. 
Could she be jealous of Robin’s good looks Jack 
wondered. This sudden prejudice seemed a mystery — 
one which that night, however, Georgy was not disposed 
that he should unravel, for she fetched a chair and sat 
down, so that she could lend her aid to the singing of 


i 82 


ROBIN. 


the hymns which had been commenced by the children 
and her sister. 

Jack, in the meantime, returned to the subject of 
this visit he wished to pay ; and Georgy, who kept one 
ear at their disposal, heard him and her father enter 
into the arrangements for going to the Blunts the next 
afternoon. 

“ It will lessen the awkwardness,’’ said Jack, “ if 
there are others there beside me. I can seem to have 
called at that time by accident. They need not know 
that we arranged to go together.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The next morning Mr. Temple so arranged his plans 
that a seemingly chance meeting brought him face to 
face with Mr. Blunt. 

The very man I was thinking of,” said the rector, 
with a shake of the hand more than usually cordial. 

I was wondering as I came along whether I shouldn’t 
meet you.” 

Mr. Blunt’s face beamed with satisfaction. It was 
what he desired, to be greeted in this neighborly way ; 
and to add to his satisfaction, on hearing that he was 
going into Wadpole Mr. Temple altered his route, in 
order to go as far as the Green with him. 

“ Have you heard that the Squire is back again ? ” 
he began, after they had gone on some way chatting on 
indifferent subjects. 

No ; Mr. Blunt had heard nothing of the kind, and 
the words in which he said so were spoken rather hufifi- 

ly- 

Yes ; he seems to have altered his plans — it’s the 
fashion with these young people. We didn’t do it, did 
we, in our day } He has come back and intends stop- 
ping, so he says.” 

Mr. Blunt made no remark ; he was turning over in 


ROBIN, 183 

his own mind how he should give the rector his opinion 
of Mr. Dorian-Chandos’s behavior. 

What’s he swelling himself out like a bloated frog 
for ? ” thought the rector — Mr. Blunt when attacked by 
rising choler had the habit of expanding all the loose 
flesh about his person. ‘‘ Something’s brewing in the 
fellow ; I’d best have my say before he begins.” 

“ He was with us last night,” he went on aloud ; 
‘‘most days he spends half his time with my girls 
and me — he was so much among us in bygone days that 
it only seems natural to see him there. He’s a good 
fellow ; little hot-headed, but it’s soon over. By the 
way, you and he had a little dispute about that thicket 
land down there, hadn’t you 1 ” 

Ah, now they were coming to it. Mr. Blunt had his 
statement all ready, but before he could speak the rec- 
tor ran on with : 

“ Yes, I thought so ; he was saying as much to me. 
Ah well, you musn’t let that interfere with your living 
good neighbors. I needn’t tell you what he said about 
it ; but I told him that he didn’t know you, and I did, 
and if he liked to pay his respects to your daughter-in- 
law this afternoon, my people were going, and he could 
go with them, and I’d be guarantee for you giving him 
a good reception.” 

Mr. Blunt’s face became perfectly iridescent in the 
rush of pride which swamped his anger. Coherent 
words failed him, and he could but stutter out some- 
thing about acting the part of a gentleman, on which 
ground people would always And him ready to meet 
them. 

The rector nodded his complete assurance, and his 
task ended, he speedily found an opportunity of remem- 
bering an engagement which would take him in an op- 
posite direction. 

He disliked Mr. Blunt heartily, and oddly enough — 
for he was ever lenient to failings — judged him hardly. 
That seeming readiness to put his self-respect into his 
pocket, his eagerness to elbow his way into the society 
of those who looked down upon him, drew forth the 


ROBIN. 


184 

contempt of the rector, who, had Mr. Blunt assumed 
no other position than the one his own energy had 
helped him to, would have respected him, have given 
him the hand of good-fellowship, and have been de- 
lighted to bear him company. 

The struggles endured, the resolution maintained by 
those who have climbed, step by step. Fortune’s ladder, 
have a wonderful fascination for most men, more es- 
pecially for indolent natures such as Mr. Temple’s. 
The rector knew well that talents had been committed 
to his own care, but so long a time had gone by since 
he used them, that he had even forgotten where they 
lay buried. 

That morning Mr. Blunt did not waste much time in 
Wadpole ; he was all anxiety to get back and make his 
announcement to Christopher and Robin. Mr. Dorian 
Chandos, according to his showing to Christopher — 
Robin was not present — had come to his senses, and 
though the rector had gone a roundabout way to man- 
age it, had as good as asked if a visit from him would 
be agreeable. 

“ The Temples are coming this afternoon ” — the 
Boothbys the day before had intimated as much. 
“ Oh, you’ll see, we shall have them all here before 
long,” and he rubbed his hands delightedly — at length 
he should see Christopher among the country society. 

And going into the drawing-room he walked about, 
looking here and there, oppressed with the idea that 
some one ought to be bustling about setting things in 
order. 

Repose of mind or manner is very difficult to attain 
to by persons of Mr. Blunt’s order. 

Wishing to prepare Robin for the probable state of 
excitement in which she would find his father, Christo- 
topher went in search of her. 

She was in the little morning-room, sitting close by 
the window, looking out ; her work lay beside her. At 
sound of Christopher’s entering she caught it up, and 
while he told his news she sewed industriously, her 


ROBIN, 185 

needle flying, seeming to keep time to her heart, which 
^ was set beating violently. 

I expect, if the truth was known, it’s Miss Georgy 
Temple that’s bringing him back,” said Christopher, 
who had gone on talking, without waiting for an answer. 

Everybody says they are cut out for each other, and 
that they’ll marry some day,” 

Hand and heart seemed paralyzed ; the needle was 
in the work, but Hobin could find no strength to draw 
it out. 

You ought to get on well with this Mr. Chandos,” 
continued Christopher ; he has lived a great deal 
abroad, they tell me : you and he perhaps will be able 
to talk French and Italian together. You’ll like that, 
won’t you ? ” 

Bending more over her work Robin gave a nod of 
her head in reply. 

Come, put down that old work, do,” said Christo- 
pher persuasively, “ and have a turn in the garden with 
me. We shan’t dare to propose a longer walk now we 
know these people are coming to see you ; ” and going 
nearer to her he stooped down, trying to catch sight of 
her face, telling her as he did so that he had thought 
her looking pale that day. 

“ Christopher ” — tossing aside her work, Robin had 
sprung to her feet — I want to say something — I’ve 
something to tell you. I know this Mr. Chandos who 
is coming here — he used to be called Dorian ; he knew 
papa and me too.” 

No one could call her face pale now. Up to the 
temples the crimson color had rushed, brought there 
by the sudden impulse which had stamped her reso- 
lution. 

In the midst of that whirlpool of disappointment, 
pain, pleasure — all so mixed together that she did not 
know the cause for either — there had suddenly leaped 
up the feeling that she must tell Christopher — tell him 
all — and when he knew, ask him to take her away. 

Knew you ! knew your father ? ” Christopher’s 


i86 


ROBIN, 


calm, astonished air fell as a chill on Robin’s hot re- 
solves. 

Yes,” she said ; “ in old days we were constantly 
together.” 

The trembling within was so great that unless she 
spoke slowly he would hear her teeth chatter. 

Why, you silly little girl,” he said, hoping that by 
not seeming to see her emotion she would better 
overcome it, “ how was it you didn’t tell me that be- 
fore ? ” 

‘‘ I didn’t know it — he had changed his name.” She 
could speak with greater ease now, ask herself what had 
made her feel so oddly before. 

Perhaps, after all, though, you may find he is not 
the same man ? ” 

Christopher spoke hopefully. 

‘‘ Yes, he is; I met him on Saturday.” 

‘‘ On Saturday — here ? ” 

In the wood, by accident ; and he told me that 
now his uncle was dead, and he was the squire here ” 

Christopher looked pained. 

You wonder why I did not tell you,” she went on. 

I meant to — I wanted him to know you ; but perhaps 

because of his quarrel with uncle, he ” and she 

stopped. 

“ Oh, I can well understand,” Christopher said, only 
too pleased that his father should be the cause of hesi- 
tation ; “ in the morning, when we passed him, I saw he 
wanted to avoid us. 

‘‘ He knew no more of my being here then, than I 
did about him.” What ease it had given her, this speak- 
ing to Christopher ! He was going to Venice to look 
after us ; he did not know what had happened to him, 
nor that I was married to you.” 

“ No ; didn’t he ? It is then so long since you saw 
him ? ” 

Oh, it seems ages ago to me ” and she paused 

for a moment, looked dreamily, ‘‘ but really it was but 
a short time before you came to us that he left Venice.” 

Completely disarmed of suspicion, Christopher said : 


ROBIN. 


i87 


“ And you met this friend, and you were not go- 
ing to tell me ? I think I ought to scold you, you 
know.’’ 

‘‘ I wanted to tell you all the time,” she said earn- 
estly. 

Christopher gave her a little shake of the hand. 

Now I see,” he said, “ what it was that upset you 
while we were away.” 

Yes. It has brought so much of the past back to 
me. I knew him when I was a child ; he told me so 
many things that since then you have told me, Chris- 
topher,” and raising her eyes swimming with tears, 
she added, ‘‘ Except you, I never knew anyone but 
him talk to me about doing things that are right and 
good.” 

‘‘ He sowed the seed then,” he said, looking at her 
tenderly. 

“ No ; you did that. He tilled the ground, perhaps,” 
and she smiled back at him. 

She could smile now — that fit of madness which for 
a time had swept over her had passed away. Christo- 
pher’s presence and attentions were no longer oppres- 
sive : if he touched her, she did not shrink away, 
but sat with her hand in his, telling him about Jack, 
what he had been to her, and what he had been to her 
father ; and as they talked, the great burden of her dis- 
content seemed to melt, and not knowing enough of her 
woman’s weak nature to discern that it was the sun of 
that presence which was drawing near, she cheated 
herself into the belief that her happiness was restored 
solely for the reason that she had confided in Chris- 
topher. 

‘‘ I shall never keep a secret again from you,” she 
said — ‘‘ never.” 

“ That is all I can ask of you ; ” and he sighed to 
think how far his wishes outstripped his words. 

‘‘ It is only as it should be with husbands and wives 
— they ought to trust each other, shouldn’t they 1 ” 

‘‘ They ought to. I should like to think you could 
always trust me.” 


i88 


ROBIN, 


“ I mean to. Oh, Christopher, you are very good ! 
she said, looking at him seriously. I used to think 
he — Jack — Mr. Chandos, you know, could do nothing 
wrong, until I knew you.” 

It was the truth she spoke. Unknowingly Christo- 
pher had many a time served as a standard by which 
Robin saw flaws and imperfections in one she had be- 
fore held faultless. 

“ I am afraid his temper is not an easy one to get on 
with. Papa always used to say it wasn’t ; he would take 
everything so seriously, you know.” 

Christopher had none the worse opinion of him for 
that. He could easily imagine how trying to a man of 
even not the strictest principles Mr. Veriker might be ; 
and the somewhat vague reports of Mr. Chandos’s an- 
tecedents coming back, he thought it not improbable 
that the present Squire of Wadpole would rather have 
it forgotten that he had been once Jack Dorian. 

‘‘ I wonder what he intends doing,” he said. ‘‘Do 
you think he means to recognize you ? It will be very 
awkward if he doesn’t, won’t it ? ” 

“ I couldn’t bear it — it would be impossible. If he 
does that and stays, Christopher, we shall have to go 
away.” 

Christopher was silent for a moment; the sense of 
his position weighed upon him. Robin’s seeming 
indisposition had driven that question of a separate 
income out his mind ; now it must be returned to and 
settled upon without further delay. 

“ I can’t think,” he said looking at her, “how it is I 
never heard you mention him. — this Mr. Chandos. And 
your father, too, he used to speak so frequently of 
people he had known, to me.” 

“ Oh, he has spoken of him.” 

“ Not by name, or I should have recollected it 
again.” 

“ I used to think that by his not writing, papa thought 
Jack neglected him — he was very sensitive, poor dear, 
about anything of that kind. He got to be quite mor- 
bid about people forgetting him, and not wanting to 


ROBIN, 


189 


seem to know him; and I noticed how he left off ever 
speaking of Jack. Perhaps it was in my mind to — I 
used to think he might have written to us.’’ 

Christopher was going to ask more, when the ringing 
of the luncheon-bell interrupted the conversation. 

Robin half rose, and then sat down again as if hesi- 
tating. 

“ Would you rather not go down ? ” said Christopher, 
anticipating her wishes. 

‘‘ Much rather not. It’s uncle ; he is sure to begin 
speaking of it, and I shan’t quite know what to say.” 

“ All right. I’ll find some excuse why you are not 
there, and I’ll send your luncheon to you.” 

‘‘ And then after, if I go into the garden you’ll meet 
me there, and we’ll stroll about together quietly, you 
and I.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

“ Mrs. and Miss Temple, ma’am, have called to see 
you,” was the summons which had brought Robin to 
the drawing-room. 

She and Christopher had had their stroll in the gar- 
den, and a long talk together, which had served almost 
entirely to restore Robin’s former equanimity; she still 
felt terribly nervous at the thought of meeting Jack, 
but that strange turmoil of emotions, so suddenly 
stirred within her, had calmed gradually down and 
subsided. 

“ Had he come with them ? ” 

Her heart was in a flutter; she could not put the 
question, but the words kept repeating themselves 
until she was in the room, receiving Mrs. Temple’s 
languid congratulations, Georgy’s unusually stiff 
greeting but all the while =with eyes and ears for 
nobody but Jack. 

“ Mr. Dorian Chandos, Robin,” she heard Christopher 
saying; and instinct must have made her turn in his 
direction, for her hand was taken and Jack was speak’ 


90 


ROBIN, 


ing — saying something to her — something about his 
surprise at this meeting, his astonishment at seeing 
her. 

“ Is it as I fear, that you don’t remember me ? ” he 
said anxiously, and the poor little hand which lay so 
cold in his was almost crushed as he waited for the 
answer. 

“ I think she is quite overcome by astonishment.” 
It was Christopher who had come to the rescue, and 
who, by talking very quickly to Mrs. Temple and 
Georgy on the score of unexpected recognitions, 
endeavored to withdraw their attention. 

‘‘ Oh yes, I recollect you perfectly,” Robin at length 
found breath to say. “ I was only wondering whether, 
now that I am married, you would remember me.” 

Each spoke with hidden meaning. 

^‘Remember you!” exclaimed Jack; “is it at all 
likely I could forget?” 

It had just come to him that he was still holding her 
hand ; turning to Mr. Blunt, who sat completely mysti- 
fied, he said, “ Why, I have known her since she was so 
high, and ran about in pinafores — her father was one of 
my greatest friends.” And then, smiling as if the 
thought amused him, he added, “ How shall I bring 
myself to call her anything but Robin, I wonder ? and 
I shan’t know she is speaking to me, so accustomed 
was I to hear her call me Jack.” 

“ It’s one of the most extraordinary things I ever 
heard of in my life,” said Mr. Blunt, remembering that 
he had heard some very fishy reports about the Squire, 
and if he was mixed up with Veriker, he hadn’t a doubt 
but they were true. 

“ It certainly is an odd coincidence,” said Mrs. 
Temple, considering herself appealed to ; “isn’t it, 
Georgy ? ” 

But Georgy, seemingly not one whit interested in the 
matter, was attentively examining a picture. 

“ Isn’t it odd, Georgy ? ” repeated her mother. 
“ Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ No ; if you ask me, I really don’t see anything very 


ROBIN. 


191 

odd in it. The odd thing to me is/’ and she looked 
pointedly at Jack, that being in the same place, Mrs. 
Blunt and Mr. Dorian-Chandos should not have met 
before.” 

“ Can she have seen them, or has he told her ? ” 
thought Christopher. 

His face seemed to betray the suspicion, for Georgy 
in her turn wondered, “ Does he know ? ” and then, 
following the eyes of husband and wife, she fancied 
they exchanged a look of meaning, and the supposition 
gave a more favorable turn to the opinion she had 
formed of Robin. 

‘‘ And if I had kept to my original intention of going 
away, we might not have met now,” was Jack’s answer. 

He was not going to be put out of countenance by Miss 
Georgy ; still, he had no wish just then to enter upon 
an encounter with her ; and to avoid it he turned to Mr. 
Blunt, and little guessing how sharp were the thorns he 
stuck, began a conversation in praise of Mr. Veriker. 

Robin had to entertain Mrs. Temple, Georgy occu- 
pied herself with Christopher ; the three couple talked 
separately, and a little apart from each other. 

Several times Georgy made a movement to go, but 
her mother, delighted at the chance of pouring her 
misfortunes into the ear of a new listener, paid no atten- 
tion to signs given. J ack seemed equally blind ; his whole 
attention was centered on making himself agreeable 
to Mr. Blunt. And so successful was he that at parting 
the old man begged him not to think any more of that 
little affair about the thicket land ; he was only very 
sorry that they hadn’t known each other then as they 
did now. 

‘‘And you’ll come again,” he said, heartily. “Pay 
us another visit soon.” 

Jack declared that he should be delighted. 

“ I was hoping,” and he tried to catch Robin’s ear, 
“ that Mrs. Blunt would ask me.” 

“ Oh, you were waiting for that, were you ? ” 

Mr. Blunt laughed amusedly, calling out to Robin : 

“ Come over here, my dear ; tell Mr. Chandos how 


192 


ROBIN. 


pleased we shall be to see him whenever he feels 
inclined to drop in.’^ 

Robin seemed to be struck with sudden shyness. 

“ Oh, but uncle, it is for you to say that. I am not 
mistress here.^’ 

“ Yes, yes, you are,^^ said the old man encouragingly, 
“ so long as Tin left master you shall be left missis. 
Can’t say fairer than that, can I squire ? ” 

‘‘Certainly not. Then I may come?” — Jack was 
still addressing Robin — “ may I ? ” 

“ Yes, if you like to you may;” and she lifted her 
eyes, and for the first time looked at him, and Jack felt 
the look had made them friends again. Perhaps Robin 
felt it too, for she gave a little rippling laugh. “ I shall 
be very glad to see you,” she said, “ and so will Chris- 
topher, too.” 

“ Ah, yes ; we mustn’t forget Christopher,” said Mr. 
Blunt loudly. 

“ That goes without saying,” put in Georgy Temple, 
who came up behind them. “ I feel assured that my 
cousin finds it impossible that he should ever forget 
Mr. Christopher Blunt.” 

“ What the ” 

There was just time for Jack’s face to ask the 
question. Already Mrs. Temple was engrossing the 
father and son’s attention ; Georgy had turned towards 
the door; Robin was saying ‘Good-bye’ to her. A 
minute or more after, they had left the house. 

If anyone, to whom Jack felt bound to give an 
answer, had asked him why he had returned to 
Wadpole, he could not possibly have satisfied him. He 
had come back because he could not stay away — that 
was how it seemed to him ; come back, beckoned by an 
irresistible desire which he had silently combated with 
until of a sudden his strength had failed him, the 
temptation had overcome, and he was journeying home, 
seeking for reasons to give to others without striving to 
find any to give to himself. 

His first step was to go to the rectory to see the 


ROBIN. 


193 


Temples, and this had led to the atrangements in 
prospect of the visit which they had just paid. 

The clang of the gates as they went out seemed to 
bring him back to his more sober senses. Up to the pres- 
ent time ^;ie had been occupied in what he meant to do ; 
one thought had had possession of his mind : he must 
see Robin. Well ! he had seen her ; they had met ; 
they had parted. What did he mean to do now ? 

Aunt Temple was dribbling out discontent about the 
luxury of such persons' surroundings ; Georgy was 
walking along silently — evidently her humor was not a 
happy one. To the admiration bestowed by her 
mother on Robin she said nothing, but each remark 
Jack made was met by a snub or a sneer. 

Well, thank goodness, it’s over,” she said, answer- 
ing an appeal made to her. “ We’ve done our duty, 
and we’ve paid our call, and there’s an end to it so far 
as we’re concerned for a very long time to come.” 

“ They’ll be calling on us. That’s the next thing,” 
said Mrs. Temple, aggrievedly. 

“ And if they do, there’ll be no need to see them. 
We can say we’re not at home.” 

‘‘ Neighborly ! ” said Jack sarcastically. 

But Jack, only remember what our drawing-room 
always is to look at,” and its recollection made Mrs. 
Temple sigh dismally. ‘‘ I don’t mind with people who 
know us — of our own set — but these purse-proud new- 
comers — oh ! it’s terribly humiliating, it really is ! ” 

“ Rubbish ! stuff ! nonsense ! ” 

Jack grew quite energetic. 

Who do you suppose looks at the room so long as 
those they come to see are in it can answer 

for it that Mrs. Blunt won’t. She has never been used 
to a lot of grand surroundings.” 

“ How very strange your knowing her so well 
before ! ” Mrs. Temple began, digress! vely. “ Of 
course that’ll make a great difference in her to me, and 
to us, all, won’t it, Georgy ?” Georgy didn’t reply. 

How surprised you must have been to see her, Jack ; 
weren’t you ? ” 

13 


194 


ROBIN, 


Oh, I don’t know. Not very, people I have met 
are always turning up somewhere. After all, the 
world is a very small one.” 

“ Well, yes, I suppose it is. So many people go 
round it now. In my day it used to be thought wonder- 
ful — quite out of the common. I remember a cousin of 
General White’s — not the General White that lives 
at Forder — but that man — don’t you know who ” 

Mrs. Temple came to a sudden stop. The cross-road 
reached. Jack had turned to Georgy saying: 

“ Do you want to go straight home ? ” 

‘‘ Not particularly. Why ? ” 

“ Do you mind. Aunt Temple, if, instead of the 
fields, Georgy and I go back round by the common, 
home ? ” 

Feeling that all these walks must in time lead to the 
church, Mrs. Temple, swallowing the interruption which 
anyone less favored would have resented, raised no 
objection. At the stile she took her leave of them, 
while they, getting over it, walked along the lane, the 
broader part of which skirted the thicket. 

“ That’s your late bone of contention, isn’t it ? ” said 
Georgy, following the direction of Jack’s eyes, which 
were fixed on the wooded slopes below. 

‘‘ Yes,” he said, without looking round at her. 

The place Where we have spent many a happy hour 
years ago, when we were boy and girl together. I 
think you’ve forgotten all about those times. Jack 
now.” 

“ On the contrary,” he said ; “ I don’t think I ever 
valued them so much, nor you either, Georgy ” — he 
had taken hold of her hand, and was looking with that 
wonderfully expressive face of his, which in every 
appeal he made seemed to carry it at once irresistibly — 
“ so you mustn’t forsake me.” 

“ It will be your own fault if I do,” she said seri- 
ously. 

“ My own fault, will it ? How so ? ” 

‘‘ Because you won’t trust me.” 

Jack’s eyes regarded her inquiringly. He was won- 


kOBlN. 


195 


dering how much she knew, or was it only a guess she 
was making ? Anyway, he felt inclined to confide in 
her. Jack was suffering from that sickening despair 
which comes over most of us at sight of the plans, hopes, 
wishes, planned out by ourselves, uprooted by another’s 
hand. Life seemed suddenly robbed of all its bright- 
ness. He had just had his first sight of what some see 
early — he had looked at ‘‘ happiness through another’s 
eyes.” All his future seemed stranded. There was 
nothing for him to do — nothing for him to care for. 
Unknown to himself, he was filled with a craving for 
sympathy, and the chord was vibrating under the touch 
of Georgy. 

“ Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly, “ are 
you afraid to do so ” 

“ No ; only first promise to do me a favor.” 

She nodded her head in assent. 

“ What is it 1 ” she asked. 

“ Be kind to that girl we have just left — for my sake 
— will you 1 You don’t know what a terrible disappoint- 
ment I have had about her.” 

He had let go her hand, and was looking straight in 
front of him away from her. 

‘‘ She was the girl you were intending to marry, wasn’t 
she ? ” 

Georgy was trying to help him out with his story. 

“ Did you guess that ? Well, bnly on Saturday, when 
I parted with you to go into Wadpole, I was as certain 
of making her my wife as I am now that she belongs to 
another man. Going into the wood there — because I 
was thinking so much about her and about old times — 
we met, and I had to learn that she was married 
already.” 

The face Jack turned to Georgy said more than any 
words of his could convey. 

Poor fellow 1 ” she murmured involuntarily, and 
for a minute they walked on silently. 

‘‘ Then had she deceived you. Jack ? ” she began. 

“Deceived me!” and he laughed bitterly. “No; 
she had no more thought that I care for her in that way 


ROBIN. 


196 

than — that I care for you. Oh, Georgy ! you women 
are most unaccountable beings ; a man may expend 
all the devotion he can upon you, but unless you hear 
him say in plain words, ‘ I love you 5 do you love me ^ 
it all counts for nothing.’’ 

“ Yes; but you forget what awful mistakes we might 
make if we went about judging by mere actions. Do 
you mean that you never spoke to her, then ? ’ 

“ Never a word. I had known her from such a mere 
child that positively, until we had to part I hadn’t 
realized what she was to me ; and then, you know, I 
hadn’t anything to offer her. It was on that account 
that I wrote to Clarkson, as I told you.” 

“ I thought you said a friend had advised you ” 

‘‘ Yes ; and that friend was her father. It was the 
first time he ever spoke to me of his threatened danger ; 
that led him to speak of his past life, and to give 
what turned out very good advice to me ; and in my 
turn I begged him to write to these people, who, he 
said, could give a shelter to his daughter. He did so, 
the young man came out, and the result of the visit 
you see.” 

“ But didn’t you ever write to them ? didn’t she ever 
write to you ? ” 

I heard from the father once or twice, and then 
he wrote to say they were going away from Venice. 
Oh ! I feel sure it was meant to deceive me, for there 
wasn’t a word of this young man, and hardly a men- 
tion of Robin.” 

'' And she never wrote herself ; hadn’t she been used 
to writing to you .? ” 

Yes ; formerly she had, but then — well — I — oh ! I 
didn’t feel inclined myself to write in the usual way, 
and after what had passed I thought I saw why she 
didn’t either.” 

Georgy waited, wondering what she had best say ; 
with the gauge she possessed of a woman’s nature, 
this silence on the part of Robin was a test of love. 

Dont you think,” she said, ‘‘ that she must have 
suspected that you cared for her ? ” 


ROBIN, 


197 


No — now I don’t believe that the thought, could 
have ever entered her head. When we met down 
there, it was delight at seeing an old friend that she 
showed me ; she was in raptures to think we were going 
to live near each other : and I — I wanted never to see 
her again, to go to the farther end of the world, to put 
all the space I could between us — it was that feeling 
which sent me away.” 

“ And what has brought you back ? ” 

Jack felt himself suddenly pulled up short. Oh — 
oh ! ” he stammered “ of course I soon got over that ; a 
few hours in the train brought me to my senses, and 
showed me that I couldn’t throw everything to the winds 
in that wild fashion. I have duties here, and other 
people to think of — oh, it would never have done to go 
away ! No, I must get over it as best I can : live it 
down : accustom myself to meet her. It would be 
,very different if there was any feeling on her side, you 
know ; then in honor I should be bound not to 
return.” 

^ I think you would have been much wiser to stay 
away,” said Georgy, firmly, “ at least for a time ; I 
thought she seemed very ill at ease in your presence.” 

That was because we had seen each other before, 
and nobody else knew of it.” 

‘‘Wait, wait,” said Georgy; “now I am going to 
make my confession.” 

And to Jack’s astonishment, she told him how, stand- 
ing there — pointing back to the tree — she had overlook- 
ed them, and that the suspicions it had raised were her 
reasons for treating Robin so coldly. 

“ But that is past now,” said Jack, “ and you’ll try 
and like her, won’t you ? You can’t help it, when you 
know her. Be a sister to her, Georgy, do.” 

“ Are you intending to be her brother, then ? No ; 
don’t look so frightened ; I don’t mean anything, I don’t 
mean anything I assure you. I promise you to remem- 
ber that the Squires of Wadpole have always been 
bachelors.” 


198 


ROBIN. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Jack’s influence had a marked effect on his neigh- 
bors — people readily follow the lead of a good-looking, 
well-to do bachelor. In most at the houses about 
Wadpole there were sons to push on, daughters to 
marry, or some sufficient reason for making it desirable 
to stand well in the good graces of the new Squire, 
who, befoffe a month had gone by, had strained a great 
many points to call on everybody worth knowing far 
and near. When Mr. and Mrs. Christopher &unt 
were discussed — as discussed they were certain to be 
— Jack seized the opportunity of speaking of his former 
intimacy with Mrs. Blunt, that he had met a friend in 
her, and that her father, Aston Veriker, and he, while 
abroad, had seen an immense deal of one another. 

Veriker ! Was Mrs. Blunt a Miss Veriker then ? Oh, 
really ! what, one of the Portsdown Verikers Then, 
of course they must call ; certainly, there could be no 
possible reason for not knowing her. And gradually 
in a very short time it seemed agreed, and by tacit 
consent, that Mrs. Blunt and her husband Mr. Christo- 
pher Blunt, were to be recognized as members of Wad- 
pole society. 

Wishing it to be thoroughly understood — more 
especially in the presence of the man so many of them 
up to now had ignored — that it was Mrs. Blunt who 
possessed the ‘‘ open sesame ” to their intimacy, the call- 
ers each one repeated something said to them by the 
Squire. 

Mr. Dorian-Chandos had spoken of Mrs. Blunt as 
being such a great friend of his, or Mr. Dorian-Chan- 
dos had seemed to speak with such regret of Mrs. 
Blunt’s father ; he said while they were abroad they 
were so very much together. 

Honey to Robin, gall to old Blunt, who endured 
martyrdom in having to sit still and hear these praises 


ROBIN. 


199 


given of the man whom, even dead, above all others he 
hated. 

Rankling within him, they began to breed dislike 
of Robin. Instead of being beholden to him, the feel- 
ing forced on him was that he was being patronized be- 
cause of her. was being taken by the hand for the rea- 
son that his son — his son — was married to the daugh- 
ter of that Veriker. Faugh I the very thought brought 
out the perspiration on Mr. > Blunt’s ample forehead. 
If he could only tell them, could only speak the things 
he knew, about that swindling, card-sharping vaga- 
bond. And the Squire ! — Mr. Blunt’s slightly rubi- 
cund nose twitched ; he smelt a rat somewhere there. 
No man, let him be blind as a bat, or green as a goose- 
berry — and the Squire was neither the one nor the 
other — could be long without taking the measure of 
Veriker. He’d find out in what sort of company Rob- 
in and her father had found this Mr. Dorian-Chandos, 
and how it was they came to be so thick together, they 
and he. You were never the worse positioned for hav- 
ing a thumb to place down on a man in any case of 
emergency. Mr. Chandos was all very well in his way ; 
he could make himself very agreeable, and he was the 
Squire ; but there the matter ended. 

Since that first day of introduction, so far as Mr. 
Blunt was concerned, he had managed to push the 
intimacy further. Not that that surprised him very 
much, nor annoyed him either ; he had sense enough 
to know that they were men whom age and bringing-up 
in two totally opposite worlds prevented having much 
in common together. But what did irritate him was, 
Mr. Dorian-Chandos’s manifest avoidance of Christo- 
pher ; an indescribable something — which, without 
being in any way able to account for — obliged him to 
see that the two were never perfectly at ease with one 
another. It was true Mr. Chandos called frequently, 
often under the pretext of a very flimsy necessity ; but 
any step beyond mere civility was almost resented in 
his manner, and every offer of hospitality was unhesi- 
tatingly declined. 


500 


Ronm. 


Gradually and very unwillingly it began to dawn 
upon Mr. Blunt’s mind that Robin was the object of 
all this attention, not only on the part of Mr. Chandos, 
but of everyone else in and about Wadpole : and that 
so long as they could secure Robin’s society, Christo- 
pher and he might go whistle. 

There were moments when these thoughts filled Mr. 
Blunt with such fury that to guard himself against them 
he had to seek some distraction. This then was what 
he had toiled for, made his money for — why he had 
bought an estate and surrounded himself with luxury, 
that the daughter of that swindler might have the benefit 
of it — that she might go driving about the country 
belaced and befurbelowed, hand and glove with the 
best ; not for the reason of being his son's wife, but 
because, forsooth, she was the daughter of Mr, Aston 
Veriker ! Mr. Blunt’s veins stood out, his pulses beat, 
his heart thudded until he grew nervous at the force 
of his own passion ; and to calm it he would have 
recourse to a remedy, any over-indulgence in which, 
while it made him more at ease in himself, rendered 
him twenty times more obnoxious to those around him. 

He would waylay Christopher ; contradict, thwart, 
argue with Robin, and grow furious because in each 
dispute the husband would side with the wife. Every 
now and then he would make a fresh attempt at stirring 
Christopher up to what he seemed blind to. Why did 
he permit Robin to go alone out riding, and driving, to 
these parties, to luncheons, and afternoon teas } hadn’t 
they asked him ? 

“ Certainly he had been asked,” Christopher would 
say. 

“ Then why don’t you go ? You’ve learnt to drive 
and to ride — you know how to play all these games ; 
what do you stop at home for ! ” 

‘‘ Because I prefer to stop at home.” 

“ Oh, prefer ! Ah yes, that’s it. Well then, I can 
tell you what : if you stop at home she ought to stop 
too.” 

Not at all, if it pleases her to go.” 


ROBIN, 


201 


“ Pleases her to go ! A wife's business is to be pleased 
to do what her husband does, and not to be seen all 
over the place with this one and the other, and you 
don't know who." 

“ I am perfectly satisfied ; I always know with whom 
Robin has been." 

Alas, poor Christopher ! he only knew it too well. 
Jealousy is love's shadow, and he had not been many 
times in presence of Jack with Robin without knowing 
on whom that shadow had fallen. 

Christopher held an index to most of Jack's move- 
ments. He could have told where they would meet 
him, why he would not stay, where he would not go. 
In a room he began to count how long it would be 
before Jack would find himself at Robin's side, and he 
had blushed at the anxiety with which he had sought 
in the dictionary for some sentence in Italian which 
Jack had spoken to her. 

Then the sight of her face, radiant and happy, sent 
a chill through Christopher's heart. It was the Robin 
he had seen in Venice — until the last month she had 
never looked like that since they were married. 

The bursts of songs which every now and then came 
from her as from a bird, jarred on the ears that had 
known her dumb until this presence came to make that 
melody. 

Oh, cruel, cruel Love ! what tortures lie within thy 
quiver ! Strive as he would, Christopher could not 
help holding Jack as the mirror by which he saw 
reflected all Robin's actions. When he stayed at home 
— not wishing to give his weakness food by watching 
them — Robin, as soon as they were alone — for a sort 
of dumb resentment had sprung up between her and 
Mr. Blunt, which kept her silent before him — would 
talk of all that happened ; tell him of what this one 
had said — had done; of herself; of Jack. So far, 
nothing was hidden — of that Christopher felt sure, and 
his surmise was correct ; Robin lived a joyous being, 
with no thought as yet that the atmosphere which had 
turned all to brightness was the atmosphere of love. 


202 


ROBIN. 


Happiness in many cases serves as the hole into 
which the ostrich puts its head. 

Robin never stopped to consider what people said, 
what they thought, what remarks they might make upon 
her — she had never been trained in the wholesome fear 
of Mrs. Grundy; and Jack having yielded to tempta- 
tion, was now growing reckless, leaning all his might 
on that treacherous reed which he called honor, and 
stultifying himself by the oft-repeated assurance that 
they were nothing more than the friends they had been 
formerly. 

How dangerous for most, so placed, is that constant 
recurrence to days gone by, those roused memories of 
things that others know not of — a glance exchanged, a 
sigh echoed, a word interpreted ! All these passed 
between Jack and Robin, and each time they met, the 
communion grew more dangerously dear. 

Georgy Temple, who now saw a great deal of 
Robin, had more than once given Jack a word of warn- 
ing, by repeating to him some remark ^hat she had 
heard made ; but Jack only treated what she said with 
contempt, betraying at the same time a little vexation 
with her for telling him. ‘‘ If they hadn’t us to talk 
of,’’ he said, “ they’d find something to say about other 
people. I only know that it is quite impossible that 
they should have less occasion. Of course they don’t 
know how intimately we’ve been connected, and as I 
don’t consider it’s any business of theirs, I shall not 
enlighten them. 

Georgy felt it impossible to say more, but she never- 
theless remained watchful, and when certain gossips 
were present made very open demands on Jack’s atten- 
tion. 

One afternoon after a little display of this sort, as 
she and Mr. Cameron were walking back from a ten- 
nis-party together, some conversation between them 
led to his naively confessing, what an unaccountable 
feeling of distress this seeing her cousin’s attentions 
gave him. 


ROBIN. 


203 


“ I have no experience of ever having had anything 
quite like the same feeling before/’ he said candidly. 

Is it because you dislike Jack ? ” asked Georgy. 
No.” 

Mr. Cameron was afraid not. He stammered out 
something about a too idle life having demoralized 
him, so that since he had come to Wadpole he was 
grown selfish. 

Selfish are you in what way ? ” 

Mr. Cameron hesitated, looked at Georgy, looked 
away from her, and then with a half-penitent air he 
said . 

“ Well, for one thing because I always want to 
monopolize you, which certainly I have no right to do ; 
but,” he went on earnestly, ‘‘ I assure you that of late, 
if I see anyone else near you, more particularly Mr. 
Chandos, I am so angry and miserable that I feel 1 
ought to be ashamed of myself.” 

‘‘ Ought to be ! then you are not t ” 

No, not in the least : it’s with you that I feel so 
furious, and — the other one whoever he may be.” 

Georgy laughed amusedly. 

It’s a funny state of affairs isn’t it ” he continued ; 
“ can you account for it in any way ? ” 

I ! ” and she opened her eyes in amazement ; no. 
how should I ? what makes you ask me ? ” 

Oh, because I thought perhaps you might know — 
people say women think about love a great deal more 
than men do.” 

‘‘ Love ! what has love got to do with it ? ” 

That’s just what I want to know ; because I feel 
that if I have fallen in love with you, Georgy, it’s very 
foolish in me, isn’t it ? ” 

Very foolish indeed,” she said seriously. 

You think so ? ” 

‘‘ I feel sure of it.” 

“ Ah, yes. I was afraid you would.” 

“ I haven’t the slightest doubt,” she went on in the 
same voice ; and I certainly ought to know, since I 
suffer from the same complaint.” 


204 


ROBIN, 


The pained look in his face had put an end to the 
teasing she had meant to keep up with him. 

“ Georgy,” he said reproachfully, looking around ; 
then, meeting her eyes filled with far more tenderness 
than half those that knew her gave her credit for, the 
truth seemed to dawn upon him. 

‘‘ No, no ! ” she said, putting up her hands ; “ you 
canh embrace me on the public road. Don’t look at 
me like that.” 

“ Like what ? did I mean to ? I don’t think I did — 
I don’t know. Georgy, tell me — put it into words — 
say you really love me.” 

“ What, before you have told me that you love me ! 
I’m sure I shan’t.” 

But you know that I love you.” 

No, I don’t.” 

But I tell you that I do.” 

‘‘•Well, then, I tell you that I do.” 

“ Really, truly, positively, love me.” 

“ Really, truly, positively, love you — there ! ” 

“ Oh, you can’t, Georgy ; it is impossible.’ 

“Ah, so I have told myself, hundreds of times,’' 
and she sighed lugubriously ; “ but the fact remains the 
same. It’s horribly foolish in us, you know, two people 
circumstanced as we are — I without a penny to bless 
myself, and you with never a shilling to call your 
own.” 

Mr. Cameron laughed delightedly. 

“ What shall we do ? ” he said, rubbing his hands 
together. “ We must make a beginning somehow. Oh, 
we shall get on bravely after we once see the direction 
to start in. Let me think, now. The first thing to do 
is to tell your father. To-morrow morning, before I 
go to the schools, I shall run up and ask to speak to 
him.” 

“ You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Georgy deci- 
sively — “not yet,” she added, seeing his look of dismay- 

“ First of all, let me speak to him ; and after thdt, 
about telling any one else just yet we’ll see.” 


ROBIN. 


205 


CHAPTER XXXL 

The antagonism which steadily, day by day, in- 
creased between Robin and Mr. Blunt, was not — 
Christopher was obliged to own — solely the fault of his 
father. 

A change had come to Robin’s temper, and she who 
had been accustomed to make sunshine everywhere, 
was now irritable, captious, and almost seeking causes 
for offence. 

On two or three occasions Christopher, gently indi- 
cating her fault, had tried to remonstrate with her ; 
but instead of more than meeting him half way, as up 
to now she had always done, she resented his interfer- 
ence with sharp words or sullen silence. 

Then her moods were so variable, it was impossible 
to count on them : at times shutting herself in her own 
room, seeking to be alone — hardly answering if spoken 
to ; at times fatiguing one with a flow of spirits unna- 
turally high, and painfully reminding Christopher of 
the mad reckless gaiety which he had so deplored in her 
father. 

What had come to her ? What had so changed her ? 

He who asked that question did not wait for a reply ; 
but a name that he tried to forget rang in his ears, and 
in spite of himself, pursued him. 

“ Haven’t you anything to talk about, Christopher ? ” 
Robin would say, forgetting that it was she who had 
always made conversation. Of late, when they found 
themselves together a restraint seemed to have fallen 
on them, and neither could think of anything which 
would interest the other. 

The time had gone by when Robin poured out all 
she had seen and done and said, in a volume of inno- 
cent chatter. Now, she went out and came back, saw 
people at home and abroad, without — beyond the fact 
that she had done so — Christopher being any the 
wiser. 


2o6 


ROBIN. 


“ What Is the good of telling him/’ she would say, 
“ when he doesn’t seem to care ? ” And all the while 
a voice within gave the lie to that thought ; and strug- 
gling with the desire to be frank, and a true embarrass- 
ment of finding words to say, she would grow angry 
with Christopher for not asking questions that would 
force her confidence, 

So far, not a word that might not answer to friend- 
ship had ever been exchanged between Jack and 
Robin ; but by degrees, easy and unseen, they had 
passed from the stage of being open and free to the 
stage of being watchful and guarded — not watchful of 
others, they felt far too secure for that to occur to 
them — but each kept a hold on senses that would not 
always answer to control. 

Little did Christopher dream that more than once 
Robin had returned home full of the determination to 
tell him — she did not know what — except to say that 
she felt wretched, miserable, and that he must help 
her ; and coming in she had found him seated with his 
father, reading to him, talking with him, and, as it 
seemed, hardly noticing her. And the poor heart, 
bruised with stumbling, tender, and easily set smarting, 
would grow faint, because the voice of that tempter, 
who never missed an occasion, told her, “ He does not 
want you ; he gets on very well without you.” 

Had he ceased then to care for her — did he no 
longer love her ? Oh, sorrowful tears ! that flowed 
over hopes that were shattered — two lives that were 
divided ! 

As a beam in the hand of a giant, misunderstanding 
comes to widen the breach between those who love. 
Thus Christopher, equally sore at the neglect he suf- 
fered under, winced, because, after having been absent 
for hours, Robin still stayed away, avoiding his com- 
pany. Did she think that it was a pleasure to sit with 
his father ? striving to cheat the old man out of his ill- 
humor, so that he might be better dispositioned to 
show them generosity. 

The question of that separate income — more than 


ROBm. 


207 


ever of late — had seldom been away from Christopher’s 
mind, but each attempt to name it had been met with 
increasing rebuffs. 

“You’ve all you want, and whatever you wish for 
you can have ; and if that don’t satisfy you, I don’t see 
what will.” 

“ But it’s usual, father,” Christopher would urge, 
“ when a man hasn’t a profession, and is married, that 
he has something independent given to him.” 

“ Who says it’s usual ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know who.” 

“ No, nor I either. I’ll tell you, though, what isn’t 
usual — for a man to give the fling of his house to a 
parcel of people who are above putting their legs with 
him under the same table.” 

“ How do you mean ? I don’t see what that’s got 
to do with it.” 

“ No — nor I don’t mean that you shall, neither ; 
which you would be mighty likely to do, if that young 
lady upstairs got the chance of a house of her own to 
rule the roost over. Ah, I have never made a greater 
mistake in my life than in letting you go off there ; I 
might have known no good would come of it. There 
now, don’t begin ! I ain’t going to say a word against 
her ; only she’s got the name of Veriker, and a tame 
bird can’t come out of a wild egg.” 

“It’s rather late in the day to bethinking of that 
now,” Christopher would answer gloomily. And the 
old man would tell him that none knew that better than 
he did himself ; but he wasn’t going to make a bad 
matter worse by letting the reins go from out his hands 
altogether. 

“ When it’s a child to provide for,” he said, “ you 
won’t find me say nay ; but so long as you’re only the 
two together, as things have always been so let them 
stay.” 

And for that time, at least, Christopher would have 
to give up the discussion ; but he by no means aban- 
doned it ; his love for Robin made him daily more alive 
to the necessity of seeing her provided for, so that, 


2o8 


ROBIN. 


happen what might, she would never be left wholly de- 
pendent on his father. 

“ Mr. Blunt, seeing his resolve so fixed, was equally 
firm in the opposite direction ; and without any open 
warfare, Robin became the unacknowledged bone of 
contention between theiUc Everything she said irri- 
tated her father-in-law ; everything she did annoyed 
him ; they could not be left together for five minutes, 
but an offence had been taken or given — ofttimes of a 
nature which, while it stung her to the quick, she could 
not repeat to Christopher, or even allude to its mean- 
ing, while he, good fellow, only getting a garbled ac- 
count, would feel but the greater pain at Robin's lack 
of forbearance. 

Thus gradually the house was being sapped of do- 
mestic harmony, an undercurrent of discord was set 
flowing; and with the gladness of a bird who finds 
again its liberty, did Robin continue to count on the 
meetings which Jack was always proposing. 

People began to exchange meaning looks, and have 
their own little particular jokes about the great atten- 
tion paid to Mrs. Christopher Blunt by Mr. Dorian- 
Chandos. The ill-natured shook their heads over it. 
The better-disposed did not wonder ; Mrs. Blunt was 
really so charming, sang so well and was so good-na- 
tured about it, that they felt certain there never could 
be any harm in her — though it would not be surprising 
if there was when one thought of a sweet young lady 
like that, belonging to a good old family, too, being 
condemned to pass her life with that silent, stupid 
young Christopher Blunt and his atrociously vulgar 
father. 

There was one fact that was universally condemned 
as a pity, and that was that Georgy Temple allowed her 
designs to be so apparent. She positively forced her- 
self on the Squire, there was no shutting your eyes to 
that ; and two or three times he had, as well as man 
could, decidedly rebuffed her. 

Mrs. Temple, too, seemed to take the thing for 
granted ; she had spoken to several friends about what 


ROBIN, 


209 


an excellent thing it would be for Dora and the whole 
family. It was such a terrible mistake, because you 
happened to be related to a man, to suppose you had a 
positive right to him ; and in their opinion the Squire 
wished them to see it, and to show to them that Mrs. 
Blunt was an old friend, too — though nobody could 
forget that while Georgy Temple was there to tell 

them. She was forever harping on how very intimate 
they two had been in bygone days together, as if that 
would prevent your seeing how jealous she was of them 
now. 

All these different motives, real and supposed, gave 
quite an impulse to Wadpole society ; and the weather 
being fine, and the days long, parties and picnics fol- 
lowed one on the other. To some of these Christo- 
pher went, from some he stayed away ; and when he 
did so, Robin and the Temples most frequently went 
together. 

****** 
Without my seeing much of him. Jack manages to 
favor us with a good deal of his society,’’ the rector 
said to Georgy, as, the day following her explanation 
with Mr. Cameron, she volunteered her company for a 
walk to Uplands with her father. 

The conversation had turned to some of the previous 
parties, and Georgy was laughingly repeating a few of 
the remarks she had heard made upon her. 

‘‘ It fails me to think what mother will say when she 
finds that Jack and I are not engaged to each other,” 
she said, altering her voice, and looking at him fix- 
edly. 

And are you not ? ” 

“ No.” 

‘‘ Not going to be ? ” 

Never.” 

The word came very decidedly. 

Ah ! ” and he gave a deep-drawn breath. “ Well 

then, it being settled that it is not for your sake that 
he is always to be found dangling about in women’s 
company, I think the sooner Mr. Jack makes himself 

14 


210 


ROBIN. 


for a time scarce in Wadpole, the better.” Sitting 
quietly by, engrossed in the cleaning of his guns, the 
arrangement of his flies, the putting in order of his 
fishing-tackle — for the privacy of a room had been a 
luxury so long done without, that he had ceased to feel 
the necessity of it — the rector noted many things which 
were believed to escape his observation. “ What do 
you say — eh ? ” 

“ Say I wish you’d tell him so, father.” 

Georgy felt as if nothing could be easier. 

“ I tell him ? not I my dear ;” then observing the 
expression on her face, he added in explanation, 
“ There are some things in which men never interfere 
one with the other.” 

‘‘ Not men, perhaps — but you’re a clergyman, father ; 
clergymen say many things — ” 

About which, if they are anything of my sort, they 
had better hold their tongues ; it doesn’t do, my dear, 
to assume no other duty than that of pulling up all the 
black sheep you may meet straying.” 

Georgy looked troubled; it gave her inexpressible 
pain to hear her father speak in that way ; she always 
felt that if something — she could not tell what — could 
have been altered, what a different man he might have 
been ! 

“We’ll ask Cameron,” he said, patting her arm 
quietly ; he’ll find something to say to him, I dare say, 
if you think that’s what is needed.” 

“ You think well of Cameron, father — you like him, 
don’t you ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” and the rector made a show of swallow- 
ing something ; “ I’m doing my best. Seeing I am 
likely to get him given to me as a son-in-law, I suppose 
it’s right to try and make the effort.” 

Georgy’s face turned crimson for a moment ; she 
was completely worsted by confusion. 

‘‘ W — what do you mean ? ” she stammered ; and 
then she burst out with, “ That mean, deceitful little 
wretch ! I do believe after all he has been saying some- 


ROBIN. 


21 . 

thing to you ; has he ? has he said anything to you 
about me ? ’’ 

The rector shook his head. 

No,” he said ; but he has been saying something 
to you, I see.” 

Oh, well, really, papa, I believe I first put it into 
his head.” 

‘‘ Your sex generally do, my dear.” 

No ; but I mean I thought of it first.” 

I am even prepared to credit that, too.” 

‘‘No, but joking apart, he couldn’t believe it was 
possible. I saw that.” 

“ And you helped him to a solution of his difficulty.” 

“ Well, you know, when two people are of one mind, 
it makes things easier, doesn’t it ? ” 

“ If they happen to be of one household, certainly 
it does.” 

“ Oh, that makes me think of mother. How shall 
we tell her ? what will she say ? ” 

“ Say it’s my fault, that’s certain, for wanting a 
curate to help me.” 

“ So she will ; I never thought of that.” 

“ Nor of a good many other things, I dare say. Did 
it happen to occur to either of you how you were going 
to live "I ” 

“ It occurred to me very forcibly,” said Georgy dole- 
fully. “ All the same, papa,” and the bright fearless 
eyes looked at him steadily, “ I have made my choice, 
so you must forgive me.” 

“ Forgive you, child ! ” and laying his hands on her 
shoulders, he wheeled her round, and for a moment 
stood silently regarding her. “ And so you thought I 
had not seen anything of what was going on,” he said 
presently, “ that you were bamboozling your stupid old 
mole of a father, did you ? ” 

“ Oh, it wasn’t that I meant to keep it secret from 
you — only — well — oh, I can’t explain it quite, you 
know.” 

“ Can’t you 'i ” he said ; and then, with an odd quiver 
in his voice, he added ; “ I suppose it never entered 


212 


ROBIN. 


into your young head that once upon a time — long, 
long ago — I was in love too. Yes, Georgy, the same 
voice you hear spoke to me ; to one — not so very unlike 
you — I then told the same old story. They are all 
green memories still within me, and the recollection of 
them makes me tender to you.” 

Georgy slid her arm through his — she took his hand 
into her own — and silently they walked on together 
without another word or question, for something seemed 
to tell the girl that it was not of her mother that her 
father was speaking. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

Before startling all Wadpole with the news of her 
engagement, Georgy Temple’s desire was to get Jack 
out of the way. “ I shall speak to him plainly,” she 
said, talking the matter over to herself, “ tell him that 
I don’t consider he is acting fairly about Mrs. Blunt, 
and ask him what he really intends to do ? ” and man- 
aging to secure Jack’s company to herself that evening, 
she adroitly led up to the subject,, so that finally she 
was able to put these questions to him. 

As she foresaw. Jack was more than ever furious ; 
but the temper he showed was not the temper she 
feared. He gave vent to too many invectives against 
fate, himself, and those by whom he was surrounded, 
to make his anger very dangerous. 

In truth, much that Georgy said were but echoes of 
thoughts, the conflict of which had of late by turns 
threatened to save Jack and to sink him. 

Walking in this Paradise of content, Robin had as 
yet but rarely caught sight of the tree on which hung 
the apple of temptation : but for Jack its fruit had 
been plucked too often for his eyes not to be fully open 
to the danger he was running. 

Each time he left Robin he made a resolve that the 
next should be the last time of meeting, and the. 


ROBIN. 213 

tedium of separation was often beguiled by the plans 
-he was busy projecting. 

He would go ; he didn’t care where, nor what became 
of him. Life, as far as he was concerned, was not 
worth considering. It was for her and on her account 
alone he made the sacrifice, and who could tell what it 
cost him ! Would she guess ? would she ever dream of 
the suffering he had undergone to leave her fair name 
untarnished ? ” 

The tempter’s best moment is chosen when — the 
battle with self over, the victory, as we think, won — 
we sink down weary and spiritless ; then, unnoticed, an 
insidious allurement creeps in where a bold assault 
would have been resisted. 

It was thus that into Jack’s mind came the desire 
for a farewell meeting to gain an opportunity of giving 
Robin some slight inkling of why he was going away. 
Surely the small indulgence of seeing her alone for the 
last time might be permitted him. Stern censor as he 
now held himself to be, that need not be denied ; to 
say “ no ” was flinging a doubt on his resolution. 

But to accomplish this meeting — there lay the diffi- 
culty — how was it to be managed ? Never since that 
first time in the thicket had the two been positively 
alone together. If they were walking, somebody else 
was walking at their heels ; if riding, a third always 
bore them company ; and in rooms — Robin singled out 
by the men. Jack a little run after by the women — it 
was only by a whispered word, a meaning look, the 
pressure of a hand, they conveyed to each other their 
mutual sympathy. Certainly opportunities had occured 
when together they might have strayed away, but it 
was the most certain proof of Jack’s sense of danger 
that he had invariably avoided such conditions, ofttimes 
to Robin’s surprise and unacknowledged dissapoint- 
ment. She was therefore a trifle startled when, some 
few days after his conversation with Georgy — managing 
during an afternoon at the rectory to get near her — he 
said, lowering his voice so that it should not reach the 
ears of those near them : 


214 


ROBm. 


Do you never go to the thicket now, in the 
morning ? ” 

She shook her head. 

I have never been there since that day,’’ and the 
eyes momentarily raised to his were drooped again. 

For a minute neither spoke ; Jack was arranging in 
his mind the desired meeting. Robin’s heart was 
beating so fast that it frightened her. Only that morn- 
ing, some trifle that had occured had seemed suddenly 
and for the first time to ask, Whither was all this lead- 
ing ? And Robin, flinging herself down by the side of 
the bed, near which she stood, had given way to an 
uncontrollable fit of weeping, the cause of which she 
did not seek to define ; but her manner at breakfast 
that morning was softened almost to penitence to 
Christopher, and Mr. Blunt’s surly fault-finding was 
allowed to pass unnoticed. 

There was a compunction which does not shape itself 
in words, because, perhaps, the sins which have caused 
it have dwelt but in thoughts and feeling. 

Without asking herself the cause, Robin had come 
to the resolve that she would stay at home more, not 
leave Christopher so much as of late she had been 
doing ; and she had even reached the length of saying 
to him that she fancied that he was not looking well — 
what did he think of a little change of air ? 

Clutching at the thought, the only way to hide his 
joy was to assume indifference. 

Oh, he didn’t know — he didn’t care. Well, yes ; — 
perhaps, if it pleased her — some day. 

Pleased her 1 Robin swallowed down the sigh, and 
quickly changed the subject ; even to herself, she 
refused to own how much that proposition had cost 
her. 

All that day her emotions continued high-pitched, 
her nerves over-strung. She would not have kept her 
engagement, only that it was to the rectory, an after- 
noon-party, and Mr. Blunt was going as well as Chris- 
topher. 

Jack had had the forethought to count on this party. 


ROBIN. 


215 


On any occasion of festivity at the rectory, every 
domestic arrangement was in the most inextricable state 
of' muddle. No one in the house had any head but 
Georgy ; and she was here, there, and everywhere, with 
such unflagging energy, that Mrs. Temple usually felt 
it incumbent on her to apologize for her daughter. It 
had become such a want, she said, in the present day, 
repose of manner. 

Mr. Blunt, tc whom she happened to say this, too 
much on his good behavior to contradict her, said : 

“ It was a pity, though, that it should be.’’ But feel- 
ing hot and thirsty as he was, that he could better put 
up with want of repose than with the want of a good 
cup -of tea, which Georgy was hastening to bring him, 
he addressed Mrs. Temple, in his heart, as a stiff- 
necked canting old Jezebel, who wasn’t worth being 
named on the same day as her straightforward good- 
looking daughter. And she’s a lady, too,” he added, 
following up his meditation, ‘‘every inch of her, no 
matter what she’s up to, or what she has on ; and I 
wish I had got her for a daughter-in-law. You’d have 
to keep the whole bunch o’ them in the bargin, but 
better so than that one ; ” and his eyes fell scowlingly 
on Robin, standing a little apart with Jack near her, 
while Georgy engrossed the attention of Mr. Cameron 
and Christopher. 

The familiar contact into which the three were 
brought had obliged the curate to divulge his secret to 
his friend — for such Christopher had become — and 
then, growing uneasy at having told him, he felt com- 
pelled to confess what he had done to Georgy, and 
then to run away, so that, without him, they might 
make it all right together. Of course he had to be 
brought back to be duly admonished and interceded 
for ; and then Georgy, giving it as her opinion that the 
various refreshments had got into his head, remained 
very much on the alert with him to make sure that he 
committed no further indiscretions. This, added to her 
other duties, withdrew much of her attention from Jack, 


2i6 


ROBIN. 


who, as he had foreseen, found more than usual oppor- 
tunities for speaking to Robin. 

He had quite decided upon leaving Wadpole : and 
this meeting he wanted to arrange in the thicket was to 
be a farewell interview, where, safe from observation 
and interruption, he might tell her that he was going 
away, and let her perhaps guess at the cause. Why 
not ? It could not harm her to know that he cared 
for her — had always cared for her — his love fed by the 
thought that she had in return given her heart to him. 

Of late Jack’s assurance had terribly failed him, and 
he began to think it possible that, after all, Robin per- 
haps had never counted him as anything but a friend ; 
and the memories that rose up in contradiction had 
goaded him on to make a final trial, so that at least he 
might carry with him some crumb of consolation, no 
matter how small it might be. 

Between people coming and going and chattering 
with them as they passed by, there was only the oppor- 
tunity of an occasional sentence, which Jack seized on 
each time. 

The trees are all out now — it is lovely in the 
thicket,” he said. 

‘‘ Yes, is it ? ” 

Something in his manner troubled her, gave a sense 
of consciousness which filled her with embarrassment. 
Why should not the place look lovely 't Why should he 
not tell her so ? Robin made an effort to speak uncon- 
cernedly. 

“ I must try and go down there some day, soon.” 

Another interruption, so that ten minutes had gone 
before Jack asked. 

When will you go ? To-morrow afternoon ? about 
three o’clock will you be there ? ” 

He spoke eagerly. Robin’s heart beat faster than 
before. 

“ Robin ! promise me, for the sake of old days, that 
you’ll come. You will, won’t you ? ” 

Oh, that voice pleading close to her ear — for Jack had 
bent his head lower— what memories it brought back ! 


kOBIN. 


217 

Side by side they were standing on the shores of Lido. 
They were gazing at the stars, listening to the sea, 
basking in the sun together — then always together, 
now ! 

Jack hardly realized that their eyes had met, before 
Robin was half-way across the lawn to join a group 
seated there ; and after that, finding he had followed 
her, she volunteered her services to Georgy, asking if 
she could be of any use to her ; moving about from 
this place to that, but always avoiding Jack, who, strive 
as he did, found no opportunity of saying another word 
to hen 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

That afternoon it had been arranged between Chris- 
topher and Mr. Cameron that they would spend the next 
day at Uplands, and soon after breakfast Christopher 
started to call for his friend. The confidence of the 
previous day, seemed but to draw the two men closer 
together, and without well knowing how it had been led 
up to, Christopher found that he was talking of himself, 
and, a very unusual thing with him, of his own affairs. 

He wanted some advice respecting this income he 
was asking from his father, and to show reason why a 
separate allowance was imperative, entailed a relation 
of some of their domestic diffic.ulties to Mr. Cameron. 

Mr. Blunt^s ungovernable temper, and its growing 
violence towards Robin, were sufficent causes to give 
for the estrangement which of late had separated them ; 
and Christopher felt half the weight vanish as Mr. 
Cameron severely blamed him for not at once speaking 
candidly and openly to Robin. The subject once 
broached, they slid on by degrees to talk of Venice, 
and of the life they had lived there ; and these memo- 
ries once reached even after the two had separated, 
Christopher’s thoughts were still busy, and he returned 
home with a lighter spirit and full of courage to speak. 


2i8 


ROBIN. 


He blamed himself because the night before, when 
Robin had followed him into the library, as if wanting 
to talk, he had not encouraged her to stay ; but that 
question of independent means was so before him, 
more particularly since Robin had suggested that some 
change might do them good, that Christopher had 
determined to state his request more forcibly in a letter 
which he had written that night, and left for his father 
to peruse while he was away. 

Voices ! 

Christopher had come round by the garden, and was 
close by the veranda out on to which opened the room 
where, after luncheon, Robin usually sat. He listened ; 
it was Robin’s voice — high-pitched, loud, angry, and 
mixed with it came a volley of coarse abuse and 
vituperation, which made him fling open the door. 
There, purple with rage, sat his father ; and before him, 
erect, defiant stood Robin, her color red, her eyes 
blazing. 

His coming into the room seemed to attract no atten- 
tion, so engrossed were they with one another. 

Father ! Robin ! ” 

Christopher tried to put himself between them ; but 
Robin’s strong young arm pushed him away. 

‘‘ You had better not come here,” she said. “ He is 
your father ! and you say you owe him some duty. He 
is not mine ! ” and she threw into the words an accent 
of withering contempt, “ and I owe him'none.” 

“ You owe me, though, the victuals you eat, and 
every single stitch of clothes you’ve got on your back.” 
By way of parenthesis, Mr. Blunt, when angry bor- 
rowed his speech from a not particularly choice vocab- 
ulary. ‘‘ If it wasn’t for me, you’d be a pauper — a 
beggar living on your wits, as your father did before 
you ! Oh, a nice trap the two of you laid, and I, like a 
fool, swallowed the bait ; and now it’s a separate house, 
a separate income — nothing less will content you.” 

‘‘ Father ! ” exclaimed Christopher. 

But the old man shook him off roughly. 

“ Don’t try to stop me,” he said ; it’s high time she 


ROBIN. 


219 


heard some of the things I Ve been telling her ; if she 
didn’t know them before she knows them now. Oh, 
she’s a true daughter of her precious father ! Vagabond 
swindler, I only wish he’d been hanged before he’d 
written his palavering letter to me ! ” 

Goaded beyond endurance, Robin sprang forward to 
answer, but Christopher had already caught her by the 
shoulder. 

“ It is of no use trying to resist, Robin,” he said 
sternly ; out of this room you must go. It is for me 
to speak to my father, not you. Try and remember 
that he is an old man, that this passion has mastered 
him — anything you like, but stay to contend with him 
you shall not.” 

And after another moment of useless struggle, the 
key was turned in the door, outside which Robin found 
herself standing motionless, speechless, staring blankly 
as if stunned. Just then the clock struck one — two 
— three — three o’clock ! A half-smothered cry burst 
from her lips, and past the window like one possessed 
she ran out of the house. 

Need it be said whither she was flying? There was 
but one being who would sympathize with her sorrow, 
to whom she could tell her trouble ; he was waiting for 
her, and to him she was ^oing. 

“ Jack ! ” 

As in the days of old, when she had sobbed out her 
childish griefs upon his neck, at sight of him her arms 
opened, only he stayed her by the quick catching of 
her hands in both of his — a glance had shown him 
that memory alone prompted this self-abandonment of 
action 

‘‘ Robin, what is it? what is the matter? what has 
happened to you ? ” 

She had slid down before him, was kneeling on the 
grass, her head bowed on his hands, her eyes raining 
tears on them. 

It was in vain he tried to raise her 

‘‘ Let me be ! ” she sobbed ; “ let me stay ! ” 

A rush of tenderness drew Jack to bend down, his 


^20 


ROBIN. 


lips would press themselves upon that silky head, but 
ere they touched it he drew back. No — he was too 
near the verge to venture anything which would at once 
carry him over ; a quick-caught breath sent the im- 
pulse back, and with a face turned pale, his nostrils 
quivering, his mouth tight-set, he waited for Robin to 
recover. 

The burst of tears loosened the hold of suffering, 
there was no longer that grip upon her throat ; grad- 
ually words to say came to her mind, and though her 
voice was broken and tremulous, she had a better com- 
mand over her emotions. 

“Jack,’’ she said, looking at him fixedly — there was 
no feeling now that she must avert her eyes from his 
face — “Jack, I’m going away — going to leave here for 
ever. No, don’t look like that — don’t tell me I ought 
to stay. I can’t — I can’t ! that horrible old man will 
drive me to kill him if I do. Oh, if you could but 
know all I’ve suffered from him since I came — the 
things he has said to me — the accusations he has 
brought against me — the vile lies he has dared to speak 
against my father ! He calls him a card-sharper and 
swindler, and says he laid a trap to catch Christopher 
to get him to marry me — that I owe him the food I eat 
— the clothes I wear — that but for him I should be a 
beggar.” 

Between his teeth Jack bestowed on Mr. Blunt some 
ugly epithets. 

“ Oh, the cursed fate,” he groaned, “ that has pur- 
sued us both 1 What made you in such haste, Robin 
you might have written, you might have trusted me. 
When I left you — went away, I could have sworn that 
you loved me.” 

“ When you went away,” she repeated dreamily. 

“ Yes, from Venice, the last time we parted there ; 
only that I was not worth a sou, do you think I could 
have left you ? Were words needed, Robin, to tell you 
that I loved you ? ” 

Oh, the wealth of tenderness which Jack threw into 


ROBIN. 


221 


that most unmerited reproach ! At one sweep the 
cloud rolled back, and left the past without a shadow. 

“ You — you did care for me, then ? 

Rosy as the dawn the blushing color came creeping 
into Robin^s face. 

‘‘Like that when we were in Venice together? 

Words are not given to tell the joy she felt. 

“ I worshipped you,’’ he said — “ worshipped you then 
as I do now.” 

“ Hush ! ” 

The mad beating of their hearts had almost dulled 
their ears to sound. 

“ I heard a noise, I thought, did you ? ” 

There was no danger now of being seen ; the trees of 
leafy June grew thick and close, shut the whole space 
from out of view. 

For a few moments the two stood listening atten- 
tively ; all was still — not a sound could they hear. 
Consciousness had however returned, and with it a 
sense of danger. 

Fixing his eyes on Robin, Jack stood silently look- 
ing at her ; she, with no thought of the future, was lis- 
tening to a wondrous melody, “ He loves me — he loves 
me ! ” 

Ah, how many a woman has gone down in the whirl- 
pool of destruction, with that siren song sounding in 
her ears. 

“You say that you must go away,” Jack began hur- 
rying out his words. “ How is that possible without 
friends, alone, without money — by yourself ? ” 

“ I thought that you would help me — ^would lend me 
some money, I know.” 

When she had talked of going away her heart had 
been hot and angry ; but J ack loved her — had always 
loved her. Holding that talisman, what could harm 
her now ? 

So opposed is the nature of man and of woman. The 
words which had soothed Robin had been to Jack as 


222 


ROBIN. 


burning pitch upon smouldering tow. Carry out his 
good resolves, do what he had vowed to do ? Impossi- 
ble — impossible ! 

“ Lend you money ! he repeated contemptuously ; 
is not every penny I possess at your service, to make 
what use you like of ? Of what value is anything to me 
so long as I have not you to share it ? ’’ 

Robin took a step back. 

But she said. 

‘‘ But — but, Robin, we have gone too far for ‘ buts.’ 
An hour ago I had made the resolution to say good-bye 
to you — to go away — to leave you ; now and his voice 
trembled, “ I shall still go, only you will go with me — 
you must — you shall ! 

She did not speak, but something in her face made 
him say more pleadingly : 

Would you spoil both our lives ? Make mine a 
burden and a curse to me, because an unforeseen 
chance drove you into a bondage the gall of which is 
killing you ? Child, think ! if I had loved you less I 
should never have left you. It was the greatest act of 
self-sacrifice in all my life, and to lose you has be^n my 
reward. Must I plead with you, tell you the misery I 
have endured, the torture I have suffered? No ! Come 
with me and life will be paradise. Send me away, and 
I am lost.” 

‘‘ No, no. Jack, don’t say so ; ” and she pressed her 
hands against her eyes to drive back the image that 
word had conjured up. '' I will go with you anywhere, 
only it must be soon — at once.” 

To-night ? ” he said eagerly. 

To-night.” 

You will come ? ” 

‘‘ I promise you I will.” 

Jack carried first one hand and then the other to his 
lips : a little shrinking back on Robin’s part warned him 
not to risk more ; besides which, he himself felt the 
great need of present restraint : the time would soon 
come — was very near. 

They would meet in the same place at a later hour, 


ROBIN, 


223 


by which time all preparations would be made to insure 
their uninterrupted departure. 

Had a chill fallen on them both, making them look 
so grave, and holding their speech in check, so that be- 
yond the necessary interchange about time and place, 
neither seemed to find anything to say ? It was an un- 
acknowledged relief when the fear of observation sug- 
gested the necessity of separation, and Jack, now full 
of prudence, decided that Robin had best return to the 
house, while he waited there until he felt sure she was 
well on the way. 

The branches which he had held back to let her pass 
through closed again. He had watched the last glimpse 
of her departing figure, and now turned to where a 
cut-down root of a tree stood, against which he leaned, 
trying to calm down the fierce turmoil of passion, 
which in one burst had carried away all his late resolu- 
tions. 

Only t)iat morning, in an interview which he had 
sought with Georgy Temple, he had told her of the 
decision he had come to ; and made stronger by her 
out-spoken approval, he had confessed the error he had 
made in returning so soon to Wadpole. They had 
discussed where he should go, and what he should do, 
and Georgy had promised that during his absence, she 
would keep him posted up in all the news of the neigh- 
borhood. 

What would she think now when she learned that 
Robin had gone with him ? He could not tell her that 
a mere chance, an unforseen accident, had brought 
an event which she would always believe must have 
been decided on at the very time they were conversing. 
Georgy’s was not a disposition to overlook a deception ; 
he would, he felt, forfeit her friendship forever. The 
rector, too, what would he think of it, and other friends 
he had made in the county among his neighbors ? All 
would blame him, all condemn him ; and rightly, too, 
because none knew the real facts of the story. If they 
did, whatever they might say, they would f^el differ- 
ently. 


224 


ROBIN, 


How strangely inconsistent is human nature ! Never 
before had Jack seemed to value the good opinion of 
others so highly. Not for worlds would he have 
acknowledged to himself that he regretted the step he 
had taken, but a thousand pricks of conscience came 
to torment him. 

A few words — two or three disjointed sentences 
dropped by Robin — had given him the key to all he had 
made her sensitive heart suffer ; and the thought of 
that newly-awakened love — shrinking back with shame 
because of the fear that it had given itself to one by 
whom it was not wanted — stirred him with a compunc- 
tion he had never felt before. It was true he had 
played with her, trifled with her, thinking of his own 
pleasure, not of her pain. 

Was this what he was still doing ? 

His answer came in the vows he registered to protect 
her, shield her, devote his whole life in striving to make 
her happy. 

Suddenly the instinct that some was near, rather 
than any sound he heard, made him look up and turn 
half round. 

It was Christopher standing close to him. 

“ Have you been here long ? ’’ Jack asked. 

And supreme as was the moment, terrible as was the 
situation, Christopher could but marvel at the self- 
command showed in putting the question — no start, no 
change of countenance betrayed^ any emotion. 

For some time, behind the brushwood there, I 
have.” 

No need to tell that; Jack had but asked to gain 
time. He saw in Christopher's face that he had been 
witness to what had passed between him and Robin, 
and the knowledge made him feel much less at ease 
than he seemed. Drawing himself up he stood, and 
with a questioning look waited for Christopher to 
begin. 

How contrary to anything we may conceive are the 
tragedies of real life usually played out ! Accusation, 
invective^ reproach sound natural enough on the stage ; 


kOBIN, 


but standing face to face — the injured and the injurer 
— the froth of many words is out of place. So at least 
it seemed to Christopher. What he had to say needed 
no prelude to discover his outraged feeling. Indigna- 
tion, wrath, suffering, what mattered it to the man who 
had planned to rob him of the one treasure dearer than 
life ? Christopher had' to save Robin ; that was the 
thought to be kept before him. Time enough for self 
when this horrible crisis was past. 

“ IVe heard you ask my wife to leave her heme with 
you,’’ he began ; and it even struck Jack how different 
to his usual way was his manner of speaking. ‘‘ You 
tell her you love her, and you seek to ruin her ! ” 

Jack winced internally. 

“ I loved Robin Veriker,” he said, ‘‘before you ever 
saw her.” 

“ And she — did she love you ? ” 

“ I was not in a position to ask her then. I was 
poor and penniless, and I gave a promise to her father 
that I would go away without speaking to her. 
Although I kept my word, I thought she understood ; 
and when by chance we met here, on this very spot 
where we are standing now, I believed that she was 
bound to me as I felt bound to her.” Jack made a 
pause as if to keep under his emotion, and then in a 
cold dry voice he added, “ You know what had 
happened in the meantime. How with poverty, sick- 
ness, starvation, staring at them, to save her father she 
had married you 

Ah, Jack ! no need to fling such scorn into that word. 
The man before you feels to the full his inferiority ; 
while you have been speaking, he has watched each turn 
of your mobile face, and summed up the scanty meas- 
of his own merits. 

“ I knew it was to save her father,” Christopher said ; 
“ but your name by either of them was never so much 
as mentioned. Until the day you called, when she had 
seen you here, I was ignorant that before she had been 
aware of your existence.” 

“ What could a girl say of a man who had left her ? 

15 


226 


ROBIN, 


She did not know that I was coming back. I did not 
realize myself then how I cared for her. I had known 
her so long as a child — a pet, a plaything — that the 
thought of anything more had hardly presented itself 
until, in telling me of his illness, her father spoke of 
her being left in the world alone and friendless.” 

‘‘ Was it you, then, who suggested that he should 
write to us 

Jack gave an assenting movement. 

It seemed horrible he said, as if in excuse, to 
picture a girl like Robin without any natural protector. 
There was enough to shield her from while her father 
lived. He gone — what might have befallen her ? ” 

“ Hardly worse than threatens to befall her now,” 
said Christopher sternly. 

For a moment Jack stood silent. 

“ Your wife is perfectly innocent,” he began ; “ and, 
as far as that goes, this meeting which I asked of her 
was but to bid her farewell. I could not stay here and 
be silent any longer, and I was going away. My plans 
were settled, and all arrangements made. If your 
father’s brutality had not driven her into my arms, we 
should be parted now — I should have left her. I could 
have gone then, with my secret safe in my own keeping.” 
Christopher moaned audibly. “ But now,” continued 
Jack, his voice grown husky, his face working and 
troubled, “ after seeing her on her knees before me 
imploring help fctr our old friendship’s sake, begging 
me to aid her in escaping from the insults and tyranny 
which are daily, hourly heaped upon her — never ! Whom 
can she turn to if I fail her ? ” 

The eyes that met his gave the answer. 

“You are, I know, her husband; but ” 

“ I am, unfortunately,” said Christopher, “ for her 
and for me too : but, believe me, I would never have 
been so had a word been dropped of you. It was 
what I begged her father to tell me, was there any ob- 
stacle he knew of against our marriage ? and he said, 
" No.’ ” 


ROBIN, 


227 


In the anguish of his soul the words Christopher 
spoke came bitterly. 

What motive had he to deceive me so cruelly ? 
When I ’’ 

“ He didn^t know he was deceiving you/^ interrupted 
Jack chivalrously ; “he but suspected Robin cared for 
me, and he had faith in my love for her.’^ 

“ But you did — you do love her ? ” 

Jack looked at him with surprise, but made no 
answer. 

“ It is my one hope,’^ Christopher continued ; “ if 
you love her, you will spare her. I told you I had 
heard almost all that had passed between you, and I 
know that she is in your power, and I am at your 
mercy.’^ 

Jack looked away : Christopher’s face troubled him. 

“ Your father makes her life a very hell,” he said. 

“ I promise that they shall not remain another day 
under the same roof together. Ask anything you will of 
me, and I swear to carry it out to the very letter.” 

Jack looked at him fixedly; his eyes were strained to 
search him through and through. 

“ And if so,” he began, “ after what you . 

Could I trust you to be the same to her ? ” 

A flush deepened on Christopher’s face. 

“ In anything which concerns her,” he said sadly, 
“you may trust me entirely. My misfortune is to love 
her ; my crowning misery,” he added bitterly, “ that 
she does not love me. Did I know of any sacrifice 
by which I could ensure her happiness, I should not 
hesitate to make it ; but short of taking my own life, I 
cannot set her free. If I could, I would not come be- 
tween you.” 

Was he speaking the truth ? Jack felt an inward 
conviction of his sincerity forced upon him. In spite 
of the efforts he had made, he has never succeeded in 
thinking meanly of Christopher. 

“ You must give me until to-morrow,” he said, and 
the struggle he was making showed itself in his face. 


228 


ROBIN. 


and the hoarse broken tones of his voice, Will you 
keep silent about this meeting to her ? 

“ If you desire it. From me she shall never hear 
that I have spoken to you.'' 

“ A letter sent to your house would be delivered to 
you unseen ? " 

“ I will take care it is given into no other hand than 
my own." 

“ And a letter to her } " 

‘‘ Shall be faithfully delivered." 

There was a moment of hesitation ; Jack looked as 
if he was going to speak again, then of a sudden he 
wheeled round, and to Christopher's surprise, he was 
gone. The cracking of bough and branch told the 
hasty retreat he was making Then all was still, and 
Christopher was left standing alone. 

Like the rush of many waters, desolation over- 
whelmed him. No one was near — not an eye could 
see him ; and casting himself on the. ground,, he lay 
still and motionless. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Those who, with eyes open, stand lingering on the 
edge of a precipice, are often surprised at the slight 
touch which sends them over. Some unexpected drift 
— some passing gust for a moment draws them nearer, 
and, already dizzy, they lose their footing before they 
realize their danger. 

Such a whirlwind had overtaken Jack and Robin, 
urging them to a step which, even before parting, they 
began to repent of making. Alas ! how few of us dare 
measure strength with Temptation ! Secure, as we 
may think, at every point, there is yet some vulnerable 
spot by which we may be taken. 

Robin, hurrying through the thickets, over the now 
dried-up brook, and back by the way she had been first 
led in coming, felt as if flying from something she could 


ROBIN, 


229 


not escape. Certain words went sounding in her ears, 
repeating themselves in her mind, while their meaning 
eluded her : 

Go away — away with Jack — away from Christo- 
pher . 

She rang the changes on these three sentences with- 
out feeling much affected by either. The numbness 
which follows on great emotional strain had overtaken 
hei ; and everything she did, she did mechanically. 

In the house, coming out from the dining-room, 
she met the butler. 

Mr. Blunt’s ordered his dinner in his own room, 
ma’am,” said the man, with a perfect knowledge of the 
family fracas, I don’t know if Mr. Christopher’s in or 
not ; I saw him in the garden, but that was some time 
ago.” 

Robin continued on her way up stairs to her own 
room. She did not possess much that of a right she 
could lay claim to ; but there were a few relics, trifles, 
souvenirs of her father, which, if she could not carry 
away, she must destroy. An old case in which, at the 
time of his death, letters were put to be read hereafter. 
Robin had never found heart to look at it since, but 
now necessity obliged her, and at haphazard she took 
out one of the letters and opened it. It was from her 
mother, written, before their marriage, to her father. 
She kissed it reverently, put it down, and drew out an- 
other. This time about herself. The mother away, 
wrote telling the father into what a sweet companion 
their child — their little Robin — had grown. And then, 
in all the fulness of maternal love, and with prophetic 
certainty that her end was drawing near, she entrusted 
the child to the father’s care, trying to foreshadow the 
woman she would have her grown up into. A sudden 
gush of tears streamed from Robin’s eyes. Under- 
neath, in her father’s writing, was written, “ Her last 
letter, to be kept for Robin to read when she is a wo- 
man ; ” prefixed was the date, just after the death, in 
the very midst of his great sorrow. Robin turned it 
over, examining it carefully. Had it ever been read or 


230 


ROBIN, 


looked at since ? she wondered ; and her thoughts went 
back to the stricken husband laying it aside for his 
child, and then at a leap she saw the child grown up — 
herself. She — Robin — was the little Robin spoken of 
in that letter. Involuntarily her head bowed down un- 
til her cheek lay pressed against the faded, faintly scent- 
ed paper, the contact with which seemed to bring a 
sense of soothing to her. 

Taking no count of time, Robin did not know how 
long she had remained resting, when a tapping at the 
door roused her. 

“ Yes,” she said, who is it ? ” and while speaking 
she had gone to the glass to mend the disarray of her 
dress and get her hair back into order. ‘‘ Come in ! ” 

It was Christopher ; a glance told him what was go- 
ing on. There had not been time to put away the case ; 
Robin had left it with the letters on the table. 

“ I am afraid you thought me rather harsh this after- 
noon,” he began ; and to afford her time to further re- 
covery, he went back and drew the bolt of the door 
before taking a chair near her. ‘‘ I have come to ask 
your pardon.” 

Robin strove to speak, but words would not come, 

‘‘ It is very terrible,” continued Christopher, “ having 
to speak so at all to one’s father, and say the tilings I 
had to say before you would be too humiliating — too 
bitter. Happily, Robin, experience has not taught you 
to feel for me there.” 

“ Oh ! but yes,” she murmured, his voice making her 
look at his face, drawn, pinched with traces of suffer- 
ing, the sight of which stabbed her. If a contest with 
his father so told upon Christopher, how would he live 
through what he would have now to endure ! 

I often think of your father,” he continued sighing, 
“ and how you must compare the two. What a light 
heart he had ! What a gay spirit ! ” — the tears welled 
up into Robin’s eyes. “ I am glad I knew him — glad 
I was able to be of some little service to him — that he 
took a liking to me — trusted me — trusted me with you, 
Robin, his great treasure ! ” 


ROBIN. 


^31 


He was looking at her now sadly — solemnly. 

We used to have many talks together he and I. 
He told me how sorely the thought had pressed on him 
of having to leave you so young, surrounded by so 
much temptation. The world looked very different to 
him then ; things he had scoffed at, made light of be- 
fore, he listened to then with pleasure ; he would say, 
‘ Tell it to Robin — talk to her about that.^ 

“ About what } asked Robin huskily. 

About our life here — how we have to struggle — make 
a constant warfare ; if we be united again hereafter — 
aud we hope to be, don^t we ? — with those we love — 
your father, mother, and her sister, whose dear name 
you bear. Long, long before I ever saw you, I used to 
join in her prayer that God would bless and watch over 
little Robin Veriker.’’ 

The tears rained down from Robin’s eyes, but 
Christopher, usually so ready to offer comfort, paid no 
heed to her. 

Suddenly his attention seemed attracted to the 
letter-case. 

“ Have you been looking over that ? ” he asked. 
‘‘What do you mean to do with the letters — leave them 
in it, or burn them ? ” 

Robin, guilty as she felt, dare not look up to see if 
Christopher spoke with meaning. How should he, 
though ? it was not possible — the question must be put 
by mere accident only. 

“ I have not decided yet,” she said. “ I have only 
read two or three of them.” 

“ And the reading has upset you ? I thought it 
would, when I laid them aside for you. Do you 
remember that day ? In the evening we started for 
Spezzia. When, I wonder, shall we ever see Spezzia 
again, and the little garden — for it was a garden, full 
of gay blossoms, was it not, when we left him there, 
lying side by side with your mother ? ” 

Unseen by Robin, Christopher had passed his hand 
over his brow, the effort he was making was almost 
too much for him. 


232 


ROBIN, 


“Do you ever wonder, Robin, whether it is possible 
that those taken from us are permitted to look down 
on us below ? It is a fancy which has a great hold on 
me. I should like to think your father and our other 
dear ones could see us here sometimes together — you 
and me.'^ 

Robin could no longer keep down the sobs which 
mastered her control; the hand of an unseen influence 
seemed laid upon her. Wholly occupied with herself, 
and what she was about to do, it did not occur to her 
to ask why Christopher spoke to her thus. She only 
knew that each word he said awoke an echo in her 
breast — each stuck a separate thorn into her heart. 

A dozen times his name, “Christopher,’’ had risen to 
her lips; but courage failing, before she had found 
voice to give it sound, she had snatched it back again. 
She wanted to tell him that she meant to go away — 
that she must leave him — could not stay with him any 
more — that she was going with Jack — that she ought 
not to have married him, because, though she did not 
know it. Jack had loved her all the time — and, though 
she had not said so, she had always loved him too. 
Confessions easy to make until she tried to shape them 
into words; and Christopher, sitting there silent, rapt 
in thought, had never before seemed so difficult to 
approach by her. 

The wall of separation which had sprung up between 
them during the past months was suddenly visible to 
Robin’s eyes, and on the threshold of the confessional 
she stood afraid to enter in. 

“ That is the bell, ” said Christopher rising. 

What ! could he find heart to go down to dinner } 

Robin shook her head. 

“No ” she said ; I could not eat anything if I 
went. ” 

Without a remonstrance he turned to go — to go ! 
He — Christopher — wont to beg and implore, was leav- 
ing without a word ! 

Robin sat aghast. He did not care ? Was he not 
well ? 


ROBIN, 


233 


“ Christopher, ’’ she said, as he was going out at the 
door, you will come up again ? ’’ 

If you wish it ; yes, certainly I will.’’ 

And without turning around, he went down, to go 
through the poor pretence of that mockery of dinner, 
sat out and partaken of for fear of remarks being 
made — of what the servants might say ; for how was 
it potssible he could feel certain that Robin might not 
hav^ been watched ? — prying eyes might have dogged 
her steps with observation. 

The thought gave him strength to assume more than 
:his usual air of unconcern. He spoke of some matters 
; going on in the village to the servant waiting ; asked 
•questions and made remarks on the weather; and 
• every now and again his eyes fell on the vacant chair, 
and it was filled by her once wont to bear him con- 
stant company. They were back in Venice eating 
that first dinner, during which his heart had unbidden 
strayed from him — made captive by the grace of girlish 
gaiety. There was a dinner at Florence, he remem- 
bered ; and one brought about by a chapter of acci- 
dents at Sestri Levante, every disaster of which she 
had turned into fun and laughter. 

Oh, how cruel at times is memory ! Christopher’s 
heart sickened while recalling that happy past. Uncon- 
fsciously he pushed back his chair, and then recol- 
lection seizing him, he stretched himself back as if 
only cramped by the way he was sitting. 

There’s somebody outside waiting to speak to you, 
:sir,” said the servant. I asked for his message, but 
he says he was told to see you.” 

Christopher was in the hall in a moment. A man 
standing there advanced, holding in his hand a letter. 

“ Beg pardon, sir,” he said, “ but I was ordered not 
to give this to anybody but you ; and will you be so 
good as to send a line in return, to say it reached yoii 
safe ?” 

Christopher took the letter and went into the morn- 
ing-room ; his hands were trembling, so that he could 
hardly break the seaL At one glance he drank in the 


234 


ROBIN. 


contents, and then his strength seemed to give away \ 
his knees knocked together so he had to sit down and 
make an effort to recover breath. Could it be true 1 
He read the words again. 

As soon as I know this has reached you I shall 
leave for Monkswell, so as to catch the midnight up- 
train. Get the enclosed safely delivered. I have said 
nothing about having seen you.’’ 

Over and over he went through that letter, as if to 
try and fix it in his mind ; and then hastily rising, he 
wrote back : 

‘‘ I thank you for what you have done. Your secret 
is safe in my keeping. ” 

“ Take that ! ” he said to the man ; and he walked 
with him out of the house, and watched him through 
the plantation : and then he stood undecided what he 
should do next. The good tidings that had just 
reached him ought to lift half the load of care from 
his breast, instead of which a fresh smart was added 
to it. 

The enclosure Jack had sent was a letter to be given 
to Robin. Looking at it, Christopher wondered, how 
was it worded ? Had he dealt gently, tenderly with 
her ? 

“Poor child ! poor child ! ” he murmured. Already 
the flood of pity had set in — for great love is very 
strong in compassion. 

Towards Jack, Christopher felt all the rising of bit- 
terness ; it was the old story of the one ewe lamb 
desired by him who had the whole world to choose 
from. Up to the present point his thoughts had been 
centred on how best he should act so as to guard 
Robin against herself, and take her out of her tempter’s 
power. This necessity no longer existed. Jack gone 
away, so far Robin was safe. The sigh of discontent 
told the sting of bitterness. Safe, because her husband 
instead of a companion, would be henceforth turned 
into a spy, a gaoler. 

If she would but trust him— tell hina all ! The 
thought of Robin believing herself deserted, cast down 


ROBIN. 


235 


with shame humiliated, was only in its measure less 
painful to Christopher than seeing her stand disgraced 
before the world. 

' O pity ! generous dole of tender love ! 

Unable to decide how best to have the letter deliv- 
ered so that no suspicion of his knowledge should be 
conveyed, Christopher put it safely into his pocket, 
and after awhile directed his steps back to the house, 
and then to Robin’s room. 

What a long time you have been gone, Christopher ! 
I thought you did not mean to come back again. ” 

Robin spoke in that tone of half-querulous reproach 
never adopted by those we are indifferent to. 

Is it late ? ” he said looking at the clock. ‘‘ The 
days are so long now. You would like some tea, 
wouldn’t you ^ ” 

‘‘ No, not now.” 

While he had been absent Robin had been striving 
to gather up her courage ; but the waiting had strained 
her highly strung nerves and filled her with an irrita- 
bility she was hardly mistress of. 

With an air of weariness Christopher took possession 
of an easy-chair, leaned back in it, and closed his eyes. 
How thin his face had gone — how drawn — how ill he 
looked ! 

‘‘ You don’t seem well,. Christopher : are you feeling 
ill ? ” 

What a poisoner of content is suspicion ! It was 
because she was going to leave him, believed that she 
was going away, that she assumed this anxious tone of 
inquiry. 

I have not felt very well for some time,” he answered 
coldly. 

What should she do ? Robin felt a prey to despair. 
Oh for a kind word, a look to encourage her ! Then 
she could tell him that, she had set herself to say ; as 
it was, it seemed impossible. 

Oddly enough, for the time, all thought of Jack 
seemed driven from her mind, swallowed up in the 
more immediate necessity of speaking to Christopher^ 


236 


ROBIN: 


Why did she wish to tell him ? She could not say — 
she did not know. All that she was aware of was an 
infinite pressure laid on her — a feeling which impelled 
her to say something by way of reparation. How 
much, how little — all that was left; only he must not 
entirely misjudge her. Influenced still by the glamor 
cast over her by Jack, she could not endure to stab to 
death the love of Christopher. 

And so she moved about the room, changing her seat, 
lingering, hovering about him, he all the while per- 
fectly aware of her near presence, although seemingly 
paying no attention to it. ‘‘ It is because of her going 
away,’’ he kept repeating ; she wants to feel she has 
bidden me good-bye.” Goaded by the thought which 
more and more pained him, he suddenly got up, feel- 
ing he could endure it no longer. 

‘‘ Christopher, don’t go — you mustn’t. I — have 

something to tell you.” 

****** 

A great writer has said that we should not lift the 
veil from the sanctuary of married life. With sobs, 
tears, and reiterations such as no pen could give force 
to, Robin told her tale, and, led on by Christopher, 
she laid her early love before him, hiding nothing, 
excusing nothing. And the daylight faded away, and 
dusk became darkness, obscuring all around ; still on 
the ground, at her husband’s feet, Robin sat. It was 
she who was silent now, he who talked, who pleaded, 
entreated, urged, until the dew of his speech moistened 
all that was good in the girl’s heart, and raising up she 
said : 

‘‘ I will write a letter to Jack and give it to you to 
send to him ; you must take me away so that I never 
— never see him again.” 

Oh, blessed tears ! let them flow, Robin. And 
Christopher, fold her in your arms, strain her to your 
heart ; for the battle is yours, the victory is won ! 

That night Christopher locked up the two letters — 
the one from Robin, the other from Jack — together, 


ROBIN. 


237 


unopened. Not a word had he said, not a hint had he 
given of the knowledge he was in possesion of. 

Believing that Jack would remain at Wadpole, 
Robin had made Christopher promise to take her away 
by an early train the following morning ; and he, desir- 
ous that there should be no meeting with his father 
— from, whom according to his promise to Jack, he 
intended at once separating her — assented readily. 
Further arrangements could be made hereafter, but 
in the same house they could no longer live together. 

As the key turned in the desk a sigh escaped from 
Christopher ; he leaned his head on his hands and 
stayed standing there. Did a vision foreshadow a time 
to come — perhaps near, perhaps far away — when those 
letters should be given each to its rightful owner ? 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

Among a small community trifling events make a 
great stir. The sudden departure of the Squire, fol- 
lowed by the unexpected exodus of Christopher and 
Robin, furnished Wadpole with a nine days’ wonder. 

Why had they gone ? Where had they gone 1 Had 
they gone together ? Questions which everybody 
asked, and nobody could answer. 

Old Blunt said his son was a fool. Mrs. Temple did 
not believe another woman living had such a daughter. 
Speculation was rife — opinions varied. And then, the 
excitement over, the disturbance began to settle down ; 
and very soon, except to the few concerned, the whole 
matter became stagnant. 

‘‘ Here we are as we were,” said Georgy Temple to 
Mr. Cameron. 

She had been spending the morning at the school- 
house, and was walking home by a strangely circuitous 
route with the curate ; in order, so they said, to fully 
discuss an impending treat got up for the children 
between them. 


238 


ROBIN. 


And I, for one, am not sorry,’’ said Mr. Cameron, 
with that gratulatory hug of himself together ; ‘‘ some- 
how, Georgy, I never felt altogether secure while 
that cousin Jack of yours was hanging about you 
for ever.” 

‘‘ Didn’t you ? ” she said, with a little indulgent laugh 
at him. ‘‘ Oh, you need not have had any fear — there 
were two insuperable obstacles in the way ; but if there 
had not been, I don’t know that Jack and I would ever 
have given a thought to one another.” 

“ Two obstacles — insuperable ! What were they } ” 
Well, on the one part — my part, you know — there 
was — you.^^ 

“ Oh ! ” 

‘‘ Ah, it is ‘ Oh ! ’ and it was ‘ Oh ! ’ on Jack’s part, 
too ; for his obstacle was Mrs. Christopher Blunt.” 

‘‘ Hush, Georgy ! don’t speak of it in that way. I 
don’t like to hear you.” 

But the mischief’s over now, dear boy. I was 
very angry with Jack for a time; however, it’s come 
all right. At heart, he’s a thorough good fellow — oh, 
you’ll see it when you’ve got over being jealous of him 
— and in the end he listened to what I had to say, and 
made a clean cut and run of it altogether.” 

“ It was strange his going, and then their going the 
next day.” 

‘‘ Yes ; I’ve never made that out — never quite fath- 
omed it*. I should like to feel certain why Mrs. Chris- 
topher went away.” 

Christopher told me — and I feel sure he would not 
tell me an untruth — that he had had a great fall out 
with his father.” 

“ Well, then, I wish they had done their falling out 
the day before ; then Jack need not have gone, you 
know.” 

'' No ? ” Mr. Cameron still spoke half-heartedly. 

“ I wonder if he knows where they are ? ” 

I don’t think so,” said Georgy ; I don’t see how he 
should. You had not heard from Christopher when I 
answered Jack’s letter; and, by the way, it would be 


ROBm, 


239 


as well to caution you against telling me anything you 
fancy they would not like him to know, because I gave 
him my solemn word to tell him every scrap I heard 
about them — good, bad, or indifferent/’ 

So I told Christopher.” 

Told Christopher ! what for ? ” 

“ Because 1 didn’t want him to say anything to me 
that I might not say to you. It might have slipped 
out unawares,” he added in explanation, “ when we 
were talking ; because I just let my tongue run when I 
am with you. That’s the beauty of it ; you can’t do 
that, can you, with any other person } ” 

Georgy smiled approvingly. 

“ Now about our engagement,” began Mr. Cameron ; 
“you know its high time we made that known, because 
I’ve spoken to your father already.” 

“ I know you have ; but what about mother — have 
you said anything to her yet ? ” and she showed two 
rows of little pearly teeth mockingly. 

Mrs. Temple’s acts of aggression towards Mr. Cam- 
eron were known to everybody". From the. first day of 
his arrival she had commenced hostilities with him — 
hostilities which he had suffered and born so meekly, 
that she was encouraged to step over the threshold of 
her own domain, and. enter into the region of his duties. 
But at the first onset the curate met her. Thus far 
and no farther was written on his face ; and somehow 
Mrs. Temple found herself not only repulsed but very 
much worsted in the encounter. Similar attacks met 
with similar defeats. 

“ Mother finds that Tommy Puss has claws,” said 
Georgy, who hadn’t fallen in love then , and honoring 
the courage of the hitherto shy quiet new-comer, she 
had combined with her father to protect him ; and the 
cudgels taken up in his defense did not improve Mr. 
Cameron’s position with her mother. 

“ Well, no,” he said, rubbing his chin, “ I haven’t ; 
but I mean to, though. I was wondering when would 
be the best time to speak.” 


240 


ROBIN, 


“ If you ask me, the time I should choose would be 
whenever we saw some prospect of getting married.’’ 

Mr. Cameron turned a little more round and looked 
at her. 

“ Oh, yes, I know,” she said, singing ^^‘When will 
that be } say the bells of Stepney. ” 

“ Why, my dear girl, a great deal sooner than you 
think. I’m the most lucky fellow in the world — ah, you 
may laugh, Georgy, but I am. Well, now, only see ! 
When I was ordained first, I thought I was certain to 
go to Kensington ; it seemed settled there was nothing 
else for it, when all at once — nobody could tell how — 
the appointment came for me to go to Wapping ! 
That’s only one instance ; but I could give you a dozen 
more. When the fever was raging at Homerton, I 
didn’t see a chance of going there ; I wanted above all 
things to be sent to that hospital — but how ? Suddenly 
dear old Nicholls falls sick ; there’s a vacancy, and into 
it they pop me. And then, above all else, there’s you, 
Georgy. Who, in the name of Fate, would ever have 
supposed I should have a chance with you ? — and yet 
you accept me. Oh, talk of luck, I should think I was 
lucky, rather! ’Pon my word, if anything, I’m almost 
afraid to wish for things — they’re so certain to come to 
me.” 

“ Then, if you don’t begin, from this very instant to 
wish as hard and fast as ever you can for a living to be 
given you, don’t expect anything from me,” 

And so I will ; ” and he joined Georgy in laughing 
heartily. “ What shall it be ? where shall we say } I’ll 
tell you — Eethnal Green, eh ? or better still, there’s a 
little iron church in a street close by New Square, in 
the Minories. I’ve often had my eye on that ; and it 
mightn’t be so difficult to get either.” 

Georgy shook with laughter. ^ • 

“ Upon my word,” she said, “ that’s pretty well^ a 
choice between blind beggar’s daughters and old clothes- 
selling Jews.” 

“ Well, wouldn’t you like it ” 


ROBIN. 


241 


‘‘ No ; most certainly I shouldn’t. I thought you 
meant some place that was — well, at least respectable.” 

“ Respectable ! ” — he gave a shrug of horror. “ Oh 
no, Georg}^ don’t let us go in for that. I’ve had as 
much as I can stand of respectability here. The other 
is so much nicer — so much pleasanter ; life is a dif- 
ferent thing there ; ” and in his enthusiasm he seemed 
to sniff its air afar. You have work to do from morn- 
ing till night, and something fresh always turning up.” 

“ But I don’t like the thought of the place any more 
than of the people.” 

Don’t you,” he said disconsolately. 

You forget that I am country born and bred. I 
should miss the sight of the fields and all the beasts 
and cattle about dreadfully.” 

H’m ! what is to be done, I wonder ? ” 

“ Isn’t there anything to be done here ? ” she asked. 

They don’t all seem to me so tremendously good, 
somehow.” 

“ It isn’t that they’re by any means good, but they’re 
offended if you tell them so. They would think it pre- 
sumptuous to feel secure of heaven, but you insult them 
by the mere suggestion of hell. Hell is a place for 
those who outrage society — who break the laws — are 
sent to prison. The outcasts at Uplands are those 
whom you should speak to about hell, not to Wadpole 
and its respectable inhabitants — isn’t it true now } ” 

‘‘ Yes, I’m afraid it is ; but then Uplands isn’t a sep- 
arate parish, you know.” 

It might be made so at any time. All you want is 
somebody to rebuild the church, and give something 
further to endow it — with the consent of the rector, of 
course — that you know.” 

And ,where’s that somebody to come from, pray ? ” 

Ah ! fliat’s tjie question ; ” and he shook his head. 
‘‘ Very well, then,” said Georgy, by way of teasing 
him ; they had come to the end of the cross-roads, the 
spot where they intended parting. Then there's a 
thing for you to wish for ; only bring that to pass, and 
I’ll believe in you.” 

16 


242 


ROBIN. 


And marry me at once, and work with me ? All 
right ; then you’ll see.” 

‘‘ It will be all right when I do see,” she said disbe- 
lievingly ; and then after a few words of good-bye they 
turned away from each other — Mr. Cameron to make 
some sick calls, Georgy to return home and listen to 
those never-ending jeremiads and jobations, of which 
she was daily growing more and more weary. 

Her mother let her have no peace. Jack’s sudden 
departure served for the continual dripping on the 
stone. Unless it had been to propose, why, the morn- 
ing of his departure, had he come up to seek Georgy ? 
and if she had not refused him, what reason was there 
for his going away ? With the view of receiving the 
sympathy of her neighbors, Mrs. Temple, when before 
them, pointed all her lamentations with certainty, but 
in the presence of her husband and her daughter she 
felt much less secure. The rector had either no satis- 
faction to give, or he was determined not to give it her; 
and as for Georgy, she could get nothing from her but 


a continual No, no.” 

It was quite refreshing to meet old Blunt, and to- 
gether rail out against their two children. 

Christopher and Robin had been gone nearly a 
month. They had left Sevenoaks, where they had first 
stopped, and were now at Whitby, hoping that Robin 
might be benefited by the sea. 

“ Into which she might fall, for all I should care,” 
said Mr. Blunt candidly. “ By that marriage, ma’am” 
— he was imparting this information to Mrs, Temple — 

I’ve lost a son and I haven’t gained a daughter. 
Indeed, to tell the truth, what I have gained would be 
hard to say. She hadn’t got no money ; didn’t come 
of, as you may say, anybody in partikler ; and there’s 
no sign o’ family — no likelihoods of it neither, so far 
as I can see.” Mrs. Temple agreed there was reason for 
his dissatisfaction. They’ve taken themselves off 
from here, and I’m left all alone by myself, high and 
dry, with nobody to see and nobody to speak to.” 


ROBIN, 


243 


Hard — it is indeed ! it’s more than I can go on 
putting up with, too. I haven’t been used to live with- 
out company. I’ve had two wives already, and if they 
don’t mind their P’s and Q’s I shall be drove into tak- 
ing another; and then Mrs. Christopher had better 
look out for herself, for matters might take a turn 
which ’ud end in putting her husband’s nose out o’ 
joint.” 

Oh, it’s terrible,” said Mrs. Temple, sympatheti- 
cally, ‘‘ the way children behave ! You know, Mr. 
Blunt, I have a daughter.” 

I know you have, ma’am ; and all I can say is, I 
wish your daughter was mine — that I do.” 

Oh, it’s very kind of you ! ” and Mrs, Temple tried 
not to speak too condescendingly ; “ but my daughter 
is so very peculiar, that I am not at all sure, if the 
Prince of Wales had made her an offer, whether she 
would not have said ‘No.’ Young ladies who can . 
refuse to make such a marriage as she might have 
made, I don’t know what one may not expect from 
them.” 

“ You don’t think it’s got in any way to do with your 
curate, Mr. Cameron, do you ? ” 

“No, I don’t,” said Mrs. Temple sharply. 

Mr. Blunt felt he had made a mistake, and hastened 
to say : 

“ Where might the squire be gone to ? ” 

“ To Norway.” 

“ Norway ! h’m ! There it is, you see ; another man 
drove from his home. Oh, it’s a very serious matter, I 
can tell you ; for unless things can be arranged, and I 
can bring my son to his senses, I shan’t be able to go 
on staying here neither.” 

Mr. Blunt’s mode of bringing his son to his senses 
rested entirely upon the power he possessed of with- 
holding the necessary supplies of money. Brought up 
in the certainty that whatever he wanted he could 
have, Christopher’s expenditure had only been limited' 
by his very simple tastes and habits. His father 
made it a matter of reproach that he wouldn’t spend: 


244 


ROBIN, 


money like a gentleman, and it was with a certain 
degree of satisfaction, that Mr. Blunt had noticed how 
greatly since his marriage Christopher’s ideas had 
expanded. 

So long as they remained where their neighbors 
could be dazzled by it, nothing was too costly for them 
to have, to do, to wear; but away from Wadpole, Mr. 
Blunt in one place, Christopher and Robin in another, 
the whole circumstances were changed. Not only did 
he derive no satisfaction from the money they were 
spending, but he had the knowledge that they enjoyed 
it the more because he had no share in it. 

In a letter written on their departure, Christopher 
had firmly but most considerately told him, how impos- 
sible it was that all should remain living under one roof 
together. On the score of his health he expressed the 
wish to leave England for the winter, and he implored 
his father to allow further arrangements to stand over 
until they came back ; then they would meet and come 
to some final decision together. 

But of late years, Mr. Blunt had not been a man to 
listen to reason. He who had made his fortune ; who, 
by his own energy, had climbed rung by rung until he 
found himself standing on the top step of the ladder, 
be dictated to by his son, put down and set at nought 
by that Veriker’s daughter — he no longer thought of 
Robin as his daughter-in-law — never ! It was she who 
had dictated this ; she who had put Christopher up to 
defying his father ; and it was she who would be paid 
out for it. 

‘‘ I won’t take no notice of that,” he said, regarding 
the^ letter wrathfully; “if they choose to chalk out 
their own way, let ’em take it. I shan’t interfere.” 

So the letter remained- unanswered. Later on, 
before going to Whitby, Christopher wrote again. No 
reply came. Only through Mr. Cameron they heard 
that Mr. Blunt had shut up the house and left for 
London. 


ROBIN, 


^45 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

From the time he was ten years old — the Epoch of 
that terrible fever — Christopher Blunt had never en- 
joyed good health ; but the worry of ways and means, 
the harass of business, the struggle to get on, had been 
spared him. Everything he wanted he had, everything 
he wished for he got. Suddenly a check was put on 
all this. Although he continued to write to his father, 
more than once referring to his fast dwindling resources, 
there came no answer. What was to be done ? The 
arrangements by which he was to have secured a 
separate allowance had never been properly concluded. 
A small income — under two hundred a year — the rent 
of some houses, left when a lad to him, was positively 
all there was to depend on, until the old man relented. 
He kept this from Robin as long as he could, and then, 
feeling there was nothing to be done, he had to tell 
her of it — to ask her what she would like him to do — 
to put it to her how she would wish him to act ; there 
was no further doubt his father intended to starve them 
out. 

Few things had Christopher felt more acutely than 
speaking of this matter to Robin. Since he had left.^ 
Wadpole,. strive as he did, it was plain to see every- 
thing was an eifort to her. The wish to go out, to sit 
at home, to keep up a conversation, to seem interjested 
— all was assumed ; and Christopher, in his sympathy 
for her suffering, would affect some occupation which 
would afford her the opportunity to steal away, to sit 
alone and brood on her misery — for do what she would, 
Robin was miserable. It is easier, under great 
emotion, to promise that we will be as we were before, 
than, the excitement over, to resume that footing. A 
strain of affection was put on Christopher as well as 
on Robin ; neither could afford to be quite natural for 
fear of what the other might be presuming. And then 
there was that constant torment about Jack. What 


246 


ROBIN. 


did he think ? where was he gone ? what was he doing ? 
He had never taken any notice of her letter, and 
strive as reason might to assure her it was better so, a 
thousand sad repinings said how easily he accepted all 
she said without striving so much as to send her an 
answer. 

Robin could put no faith in the hints about Mr. 
Cameron and his engagement to Georgy. Well posted 
in all the rumors about her and Jack — perhaps now — 
there together — she gone — why not ? Many a heart 
had been caught on the rebound ! And Christopher, 
watching her, felt himself grow sad ; was there to be no 
happiness for them in life together ? 

Up to this point there had been the satisfaction that 
he could give her all she wanted, gratify her every 
wish. Now this poor comfort was to be taken from 
him. Unless she consented to return with him to his 
father, how were they to live ? A sickening sense of 
the future swept over Christopher. Before him arose 
the insults, disputes, quarrels, and more than all, the 
humiliation of being obliged to break his word to 
Jack. 

Stirred by these feelings he set the matter of the 
whole proceeding before Robin, and then waited her 
reply. 

“ And what is it you wish to do } she asked 
wearily. 

‘‘ Wish to do, Robin,^' and he looked at her fixedly. 
“ My wish would be to stay away — to remain here.’’ 

“Then let us stay — it is what I want to.” The 
words werfe spoken in the voice of the Robin of old, 
and seeing he did not answer she added : “ Don’t think 
it is because I am wishing you to defy your father — no ; 
but — ” and she hesitated, “ we are so much better 
here, by ourselves — together, you and I.” 

“ There is no need to say more. I am only too glad 
to keep away ; my hesitation was entirely about you.” 
Poor Christopher had never had to bear the shifts 
of poverty. We shall have so little to live on you 
know.” 


ROBIN, 


247 


But I have lived on nothing at all” she said gaily, 

positively nothing, often — before we met you/^ 

“ Well then, now you’ll have to turn your knowledge 
to account ; ” and he laughed, and she joined him — 
absolutely the first real interchange of sympathy since 
they had been away. 

‘‘ We shall have to leave here,” she began. 

“ Yes, so I was thinking.” 

We had best begin to pack up at once,” and then 
the recollection of former flittings coming across her, 
she added, “ Shall we be able to pay them before we 
go ?” 

Christopher’s face expressed his astonishment at 
such an idea. 

“ Oh, but we’ve often had to leave with money 
owing,” she said, ‘‘ when we went away.” 

You always contrived to pay them though, later, 
didn’t you ? ” Christopher spoke this more by the way 
of talking than asking a question ; Robin looked a little 
shame-faced. 

‘‘ Not' always ; I’m afraid we didn’t. We couldn’t, 
we hadn’t the money to — not to pay everybody ; some 
one would have had to go without, that’s certain.” 

‘‘ But you wouldn’t like to do that now, I hope.” 
Christopher spoke gently. “You would not like to 
have what you could not pay for, would you ? ” 

“ I did not like it then,” she said frankly ; “ but papa 
hated poky lodgings, he wouldn’t live in them.” Then 
feeling some further plea was needed, she added, 
“ There were many excuses to be made for him, poor 
papa ! he had been brought up so differently ; you 
must not be hard on him, Christopher.” 

“ Hard, my dear ? ” 

“ No, I didn’t mean that ; I don’t think it possible 
that you could be hard on anybody.” 

And somehow their hands had met and had held 
together, and Robin looking up shyly found Christo- 
pher’s eyes fixed upon her, and he drew her towards 
him unresistingly, held her a moment, and then kissed 


24S 


ROBIN. 


her tenderly ; and the ice which had held both hearts 
seemed melted away. 

****** 

E- Happiness often knocks at our door disguised as 
poverty, and one test of love is to recognize the incog- 
nito. 

During the six months from midsummer to midwin- 
ter, which Robin and Christopher spent in struggling 
on together, it gave to him felicity, it brought to her 
content. Their narrowed means forced them to test 
their individual resources, and thrown into constant 
companionship, they grew to entirely depend the one 
on the other. 

How impossible that those of high estate living in 
great luxury, should estimate some of the joys — the 
blessings which surround the poor. 

Indigence at most times means misery ; but that 
estate, in which simple wants have all their needs sup- 
plied, makes no demand on pity. 

The experience which Robin and Christopher were 
now going through was laying up a bright store for the 
future — about which they were less anxious than one 
would think possible. Christopher still wrote regu- 
larly every now and then to his father, although the 
letters were never answered ; but they were received, 
because they were not returned. 

Since shutting up his house, Mr. Blunt had not 
returned to Wadpole ; he was in his old quarters in 
London, living there surrounded by a good many off- 
relations, and by boon companions, none of them very 
desirous of furthering a better understanding with his 
son. It was shameful, they all declared, such treat- 
ment of such a father ; and they would chorus forth 
eulogiums on him, with corresponding strictures on 
the conduct of Christopher— servility accepted by the 
old man, but not palatably swallowed. He was tired 
of the life he was leading, a little ashamed of it in the 
bargain, and only that he had never given in in his 
life, he would have written asking Christopher what he 
wanted, Already he had turned over in his mind 


ROBIN, 


249 

clivers plans how matters might be arranged between 
them. If they would not live with him they might 
live near him. The mystery was how they were man- 
aging to live at all. Benson, his agent, had told him 
that he had paid the rent of the two houses over ; but 
that, all deducted, -for the six months didn’t mean 
much more than a hundred pounds clear. 

Since the last time he had heard — about the begin- 
ning of November — Mr. Blunt had felt terribly low- 
spirited and disconsolate ; and though he continued to 
hold Robin responsible, as being the sole cause of this 
disunion, seeing she was not present and could not hear 
him, he found no satisfaction in anathematizing her. 
Opposite as they were in habits, disposition, nature, he 
and his son — difficult as it was without sympathy of 
thought, mind, and taste, to get on with one another — 
old Mr. Blunt had sufficient perception of good to 
recognize the merits of Christopher ; and the uneasiness 
he often felt in his presence was due to the fact that in 
him he saw a being of a superior order. 

‘‘ He’s certain at Christmas to write again,” he said 
to himself, “ so I’ll wait as long as then, ancl then. I’ll 
answer his letter. I’m sick o’ this way o’ going on 
altogether. And I’ll go down to Wadpole, it’ll keep me 
straight being there, and help to pull me a bit together 
before I see him again.” 

And in prospect of carrying out this decision he sent 
orders to get the house ready and by the second week 
in December he was installed at Priors. 

‘‘ He looks years older than when he went away,” 
everybody said when Mr. Blunt passed by ; and it was 
remarked that his hand trembled, his gait was unsteady, 
feeble ; altogether, they decided that he was uncommonly 
shaky, and seemed in rather a bad way. 

Ever reedy to find fault with somebody, the tide of 
opinion turned against Christopher. It was held undu- 
tiful in an only son to leave his father ; and that the 
old man felt it so, might be seen by the change in him 
since he had been away. In turn, they laid on Robin 
her share of blame. Young people should not be so 


250 


ROBIN. 


headstrong ; and if a girl married a man, and got a good 
home, it was very hard if she couldn’t put up with his 
father’s temper. 

Mr. Blunt found that a good many people called, and 
most of them gave him their sympathy, which at that 
time he was by no means in want of ; and then they 
forgot all about him, and he was left to himself, solitary 
and alone, except when Mr. Cameron or Georgy Temple, 
sometimes singly, sometimes together, paid him a visit. 

These two, close friends to Christopher, stuck loyally 
by him. Mr. Cameron — by reason of his office able to 
speak plainly — often talked with the old man, and lost 
nothing of his favor because he spoke the honest truth 
regarding his son. But at Mr. Blunt’s age, backed up 
by a life practice, the golden speech of St. Chrysostom 
would hardly have prevailed against his stubbornness. 
He wanted to make peace with his son — he wanted to 
have him back with him — but he could not bring his 
mind to make the first advances. No, he would wait 
until the next letter came, and then he would answer it ; 
and in the meantime, as a salve to his conscience, he 
laid his plans, and searched the neighborhood over for 
a house, that he might not only be ready to accede to, 
but seem to forestall, the demands they might make of 
him. 

But Christmas went by, and the New Year set in, 
without any letter coming from Christopher. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Unable to endure the loneliness of his situation, 
Mr. Blunt, for the first time, had sent for a few of his 
friends to bear him company at the Priors. The season 
was a festive one — to gross minds a fitting time of self- 
indulgence ; and thinking it possible such a chance 
might not come again, they saw no reason why they 
should not make the most of their opportunity. 

It is a curious fact how intolerant domestics are of 


ROBIN’. 


251 


those taken from their own rank and raised to a class 
above them. Most of Mr. Blunt’s servants at one time 
or other had had experience of families where such 
after-dinner excesses as they now saw had at least 
happened, if they were not of frequent occurence — 
but, except perhaps, between themselves— to comment 
on it had not been thought of by them ; now, without 
hesitation, they made the behavior of their master and 
his friends a matter of chit-chat and gossip, until, the 
reports swelling, all Wadpole was scandalized through 
the orgies at the Priors. 

I shall write to Christopher,” said Mr* Cameron, 
speaking to Georgy Temple and her father, ‘‘ and tell 
him it is his duty to return home. Don’t you think I 
ought to, sir "I ” he asked, addressing the rector. 

“ I think it would be kind in you, Cameron. What 
do you say, Georgy } ” 

“ I don’t see any reason on earth why they should 
not return. Jack seems lost to us for ever and she 
sighed lugubriously. 

Georgy had hoped that, on his return from Norway, 
Jack would have come back to Wadpole, instead of 
which he had written to say he was going to India ; his 
mother had begged him to pay her a visit, and as she 
was getting an old woman now, perhaps if he did not 
go he might some day regret that he had refused her. 

“ I don’t know why he should regret,” Georgy had 
said ; ‘‘ she never took any notice of him before. She 
wouldn’t now if he was not the Squire of Wadpole.” 

All the more credit due to him for not refusing 
her,” said the rector. 

‘‘ Oh, that’s all very fine ; but perhaps we may never 
see him again.” 

‘‘ Don’t you trouble yourself there. Jack will come 
back in due time, and bring a wife with him, I shouldn’t 
wonder.” 

“ I wish he would ; that would put a stop to mother.” 

Not a bit of it, my dear. If your mother saw that 
one worry missed fire, she’d very soon have a pop at us 
with another.” 


252 


ROBIN. 


‘‘ Yes : but it’s pretty near time Dora took her turn 
now, and I was left to settle down with that miserable, 
mean, insignificant little Cameron,’ ” she said, admira- 
bly affecting the manner of her mother. 

‘‘ Come, come, Georgy ! don’t bear malice.” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t bear malice ; but I don’t like it either, 
particularly when he has so few to stand up for him. I 
don’t think he has a friend left here except you, 
father.” 

“ Christopher Blunt will be coming back soon, I dare 
say. Where is he now ” 

‘‘ Still at Whitby, I hear.” 

Whitby ! that’s a funny place for them to be ! What 
are they doing there ? ” 

“ Enjoying themselves, I suppose, as people with 
money seem always able to do. Christopher said in 
his last letter that he had never been so well, and never 
so happy ; I wrote and told Jack so. Papa, I do think 
it a great mistake to be poor — really I do.” 

“ I’m quite of your opinion, my dear : but that does 
not mend matters much with you or me.” 

“ And then mother to be always going on about I 
wouldn’t marry Jack. Well, I wouldn’t ; but if 1 had 
wanted to, he wouldn’t have married me.” 

“ Tell her so, Georgy — tell her so.” 

And have it all over the place ? why, no : that 
would never do. All the same, though, I think the 
Christopher Blunts owe a debt of gratitude to Colin 
and to me.” And at this point Mr. Cameron had 
joined them, and mooted the question of writing to 
Christopher. ‘‘ You might tell them that Jack has gone 
to India, too,” said Georgy, ‘dn case h6 had anything 
to do with their going away from here.” 

So the letter was written, and sent off to Christopher, 
and then Mr. Cameron betook himself to Priors to 
pay Mr. Blunt a visit. He found him irritable and 
angry — his visitors had left him ; and though he said 
nothing about the non-arrival of the expected letter, it 
was plain to see how much the disappointment affected 
him. 


ROBIN, 


253 


For the first time he blustered in his old way about 
his son, and then suddenly his voice broke into almost 
a whine, as he demanded the curate’s pity for a man 
left alone in his old age — deserted by his own flesh and 
blood, as he was. 

But I don’t see that you can make any accusation 
against Christopher,” said Mr. Cameron stoutly. 

Think how often he has written and you have sent 
him no answer. The desertion — so it seems to me — 
rather lies at your door.” 

Perhaps the reproach stung the father ; anyway, Mr. 
Blunt put himself into an nngovernable rage. These 
recent bouts had lost him the small measure of control 
he ever had over his temper, and the picture given to 
Mr. Cameron then, made him sympathize with his two 
friends more than ever. 

Returning home with those coarse vituperations 
against Robin still sounding in his ears, Mr. Cameron 
wondered had he done right in urging their return. 

‘‘I’ve half a mind to write again,” he tJiought, and 
suggest that it might be best if Christopher came to see 
his father alone.” 

Only a little time before Christopher had made a 
similar suggestion to Robin. “ It is of no use writing,” 
he had said ; I see that. I have been thinking 
whether it would not be best for me to go and see my 
father and talk to him.” 

The winter, so far rather a severe one, had taxed 
their resources considerably, and Christopher felt his 
health was suffering from some of the deprivations he 
had been obliged to submit to. 

Perceiving that he was not well for constantly 

together as they were now, it was impossible, as of old, 

to hide from her how much at times he suffered 

Robin proposed that they should remove to London ; 
and Christopher, hoping that he might be benefitted by 
the change to milder air, readily assented. 

They made the journey in December, about a week 
before Christmas : the carriage they traveled in was 
cold ^nd draughty, and Christopher took a chill which 


254 


ROBIN, 


confined him to bed for a few days, and to the house 
for more than a week after. Anxious to get away from 
the hotel, the expenses of which they could ill afford, 
he did not give himself time to recover, and the first 
day he was able to dissemble he declared himself per- 
fectly well, and able to set off in search of lodgings, 
which they had hoped to find in one of the suburbs. 
Robin was prevailed on, though very unwillingly, to 
remain behind : the day was bitterly cold, and Christo- 
pher said he should get through his business quicker 
without her. 

In addition to looking for the lodgings, he was bent 
on finding if his father had left London. Owing to 
their removal from Whitby, Mr. Cameron’s letter had 
not yet reached him. If the old man was at Wadpole, 
Christopher intended, after seeing Robin settled, to go 
down there. He knew with whom he had to deal, and 
nothing but an intimate knowledge of that overbearing 
temper had made him hold out as he had done. To 
do him justice, every letter he had written had been 
conciliatory, and he never permitted his father to 
perceive that the violence and insults heaped on him at 
their parting had in any way rested with him. 

None but himself knew how much before going 
away he had been made to suffer, and the taunts that 
they would soon return, begging to be taken back, had 
assisted very greatly in keeping him away. It had not 
been a question of pride so much as one of self-respect; 
Christopher felt that after what had passed he owed it 
to himself, as well as to Robin, that the first advances 
towards capitulation should come from the aggressor.. 
The object he had in seeking this interview was to 
come to a plain, straightforward understanding of what 
Mr. Blunt intended to do in respect to their future 
income. With the possibility of Robin by any chance 
accident being left alone in the world, Christopher 
trembled to think how little there would be for her. So 
far, there had been expensive articles of jewelry parted 
with to meet pressing occasions ; but these were nearly 
all gone, Their wardrobe, too, needed replenishing ;; 


ROBIN. 


255 


Christopher^s clothes were anything but suitable for 
such inclement weather. 

Notwithstanding his fatigue, he returned to Robin 
in excellent spirits. His day had been a successful 
one ; the lodgings he had secured he was certain would 
please her, and he had learned through Mr. Benson, 
whom he had seen, that his father had gone down to 
Priors. 

And I have something for you — a letter from Mr. 
Cameron,’’ said Robin. ‘‘ I wouldn’t give it to you 
before, because I thought you wanted your dinner ; and 
I haven’t opened it, that we might read it together.” 

She had put an easy-chair for Christopher in front of 
the fire, and she brought over a footstool and sat down 
at his^knee, leaning her head against him, so that, with 
him, she might read the letter. 

They went through the contents, neither stopping to 
make comment until they reached the end ; then, 
simultaneously, he said, ‘‘ I am very grieved to hear 
this about my father;” and she, ‘‘ Fancy, Jack gone to 
India, to see his mother ! ” 

Many confidences had passed between Christopher 
and Robin during these six months together, and 
though Jack was seldom made the subject of conversa- 
tion between them, there was no longer any awkward- 
ness in speaking his name. 

“ I think the wish to see his mother says a great 
deal for him,” said Christopher, ever ready to sink 
what was of interest to him in that which interested her. 
‘‘ It is a long voyage to make for affection, and it is 
hardly to be supposed that he feels more than duty for 
her.” 

‘‘ No,” said Robin, dreamily, and they sat silent for 
awhile. Suddenly she asked, “ What was that about 
your father ? I didn’t quite take it in. Read it to me 
again.” 

Christopher read what Mr. Cameron said, and then 
he sighed heavily. 

Oh, but I shouldn’t be in too great a hurry to 
believe it all,” said Robin, encouragingly. ‘‘ You see 


356 


ROBIN, 


he tells you,’* she went on, referring to the letter, 
‘‘ that what he says is principally from the rumors he 
has heard in the village.” 

“Yes; but I don’t think Cameron would write unless 
he felt certain that what he said was true.” 

“ At the same time, he speaks of your father being 
very anxious to see you.” 

“ Yes, I am glad I am going down.” 

“ When will you go ? ” 

“ I think the day after to-morrow. I shall just wait 
to see you settled, and then — particularly after this — I 
won’t delay it longer. Being laid up has been such 
a drawback ; I had counted on seeing him before the 
new year.” 

“ Shan’t you write to say you are coming ? ” 

“ No. ” 

“ But supposing he isn’t there ? ” 

“ Oh, I think he’s sure to be there. Cameron speaks 
as if he had gone down to remain ; and it looks like it, 
having those people down there.” 

“ Do you know them ? ” Robin asked. 

The vexed look in Christopher’s face was plain to 
her. 

“ I dare say I know who they are,” he said, sadly. 
“ That is the worst of his being left alone ; he has no 
resources. You see, reading does not amuse him ; he 
has nothing to do, and no friends there who go to see 
him, or whom he can go to see.” 

“ He must be very lonely. I wish he was different, 
Christopher,” and then she rubbed her cheek against 
his hand. “ I see,” she said, “ that what Mr. Cameron 
has said is paining you.” 

“ It is, a little.” 

She laid down her head again, murmuring softly, 
“ Poor Christopher ! dear Christopher ! ” 

Had Robin never known , love, surely this feeling 
might well have deceived her. Those to whom Happi-' 
ness has not shown her face often pass through life 
mistaking content for her. 

But Robin had tasted of the higher joy ; it lay as in 


ROBIN. 


257 


a grave dug deep down in her heart, watered by her 
tears, sacred by her sorrow. As the mourner is won’t 
to lift again the drooping head, so Christopher’s tender- 
ness and generosity had raised hers. Biding his oppor- 
tunity, he had dropped words from time to time which 
had gradually taken root and sprung up to blossom. 
A higher motive guided Robin now, and Christopher 
rejoiced to feel that should he ever be called from her, 
no longer would that fair bark be left without a rudder. 

Many of us fail to appreciate how much we owe to 
habit. In youth, impulse is a dangerous leader ; and 
in the emergencies of life, unless daily practice has 
trained us to decide rightly, it is far more than likely 
that we are led astray. 

There were moments when the past rose up before 
Robin and made her shudder. Some newspaper report, 
a repeated story, a chance encounter, and she drew 
closer to Christopher ; from what a fate he had 
rescued her ! Robin took no credit to herself. “ Had 
he not talked to me,” she said, ‘‘ that night as he did, 
what should I be now ? ” And then, thinking of Jack, 
how much more clearly did she read his character 1 
Dealing generously with the forbearance he had shown 
when he had her in his power — for Robin recognized 
how from the first moment he had held complete 
influence over her — she sent her heart up in thanks- 
giving that Jack’s life was still his own to shape, 
unfettered save perhaps by a memory of her. Her 
woman s nature clung to the hope of that memory ; she 
could not bear to think that he could altogether forget 
her. 

“ I should like him sometimes to recall those days ” 
— and a tear stole slowly down her cheek — ‘‘ when he 
was penniless as we were — poor Jack ! — and I was 
little Robin Veriker and her thoughts, straying to 
that bygone past, she would think of the untaught, 
run-wild child she was, and of the teaching for good 
which Jack had tried to instill into her. And in those 
recollections love was forgotten in gratitude for the 
teacher ; and tracing the development of those qualities 
17 


258 


ROBIN. 




higher, Jack’s image would fade away, and his place be 
filled by Christopher. 


CHAPTER XXXVIIL 

Made thoughtful by the contents of Mr. Cameron’s 
letter, it did not seem strange that for the rest of the 
evening Christopher should be unusually silent. He 
did not tell Robin he felt so' weary that mere ordinary 
speaking was an effort to him. In his own mind he 
set down this sense of fatigue to his late indisposition. 
“That attack has pulled me down,” he said, “and 
made me weaker than 1 thought myself.” 

There had been a time in Christopher’s life when his 
weakly health, except so far as it interfered with his 
comfort, was a matter of very little concern to him ; 
the world had not held out many attractions, and he 
was not disturbed in the least to think he might possibly 
be called on to leave it early. But since Robin had 
been his wife, and more particularly since this renewal 
of a good understanding between them, Christopher 
had been conscious of a desperate clinging to life, of 
building on the future, counting on long years to come, 
to be spent by Robin and him together. 

“ I feel rather tired,” he said at length, noticing that 
Robin had put down her book and was looking at him. 

“ Still you don’t seemed disposed to move.” 

“ No, that’s just it. I could drop off to sleep here 
where I am, sitting in my chair.” 

“Get along,” she said, giving him a shake ; “you go 
upstairs, and 1 11 tell them about calling us, and giving 
us our breakfast early.” 

Naturally a light sleeper, Robin was surprised to 
find Christopher already asleep when she went into 
the room, and so soundly that he did not hear her 
enter. 

He seemed to continue sleeping until morning, when, 
between three and four, he was awakened by. a fit of 


kOBiM. 


^59 


shivering, increasing in violence, and becoming so 
severe, that Robin implored him to let her send for a 
doctor. 

No ; he thought it would pass ; it was but a return 
of his cold. If she would put some more clothes on 
the bed, and, as soon as they were stirring, ask for some 
hot tea, he thought he should be better. 

But in spite of all that Robin could do, her sugges- 
tions and remedies were of no avail ; a terrible pain in 
the side seized him — it was like the sticking of a knife 
each time he drew a breath. He got restless, feverish, 
and the suggestion of a doctor again made, he no 
no longer opposed it. 

The next day Christopher was announced to be suf- 
fering from a severe attack of pneumonia and pleurisy 
following on his previous indisposition. The doctor 
viewed the case gravely. “ He has caught cold again ; 
got another chill,” he said. And Robin feared he had ; 
but, unacquainted with illness as she was, a cold, which 
he frequently caught and always recovered from, gave 
her no alarm. 

‘‘ He^ll soon be all right again, don’t you think ? ” 

“ Oh, I quite hope so. Why ? were you thinking of 
sending for some one to help you ? ” The wish was put 
warily. 

“ No ; I can do all the nursing he wants. But he 
had thought of going to see his father.” 

‘‘ Ah ! I’m afraid he will have to put that off for some 
little time now. Would it not be as well to ask his 
father to come and see him ? ” 

“ Not at present, I think ; we shouldn’t care to.” 
And seeing there was actually at present no necessity, 
the doctor did not urge it further. 

The next day, however, Christopher was worse. 
Then his mind began to wander ; and Robin, fright- 
ened beyond measure at a symptom always dis- 
tressing to those around, sent off a telegram to Mr. 
Blunt : 

“ Come directly this reaches you. Christopher is 
very ill.” 


26 o 


ROBIN. 


Again and again Mr. Blunt read these words over. 
The sight of them seemed to paralyze him ; he was 
seized with the certainty that his son was dying — per- 
haps even dead before now. What should he do ? 
When did the next train go ? Already he had 
summoned a servant and sent him to seek informa- 
tion. 

The next train was the 5:50, there was none before : 
it was now three o’clock. Three hours to wait 1 how 
should he endure them ? The suggestions that went 
coursing through his mind seemed like to madden 
him. 

“ Go to Mr. Cameron, ” he said at length, in 
desperation. “ Ask him to come to me. Say — I want 
him.” 

He had meant to send word that Christopher was ill, 
but was unable to mention his son’s name. At the 
moment when he was going to speak it, his voice failed 
him. 

From the servant Mr. Cameron learnt the cause of 
the summons, and with ready sympathy at once obeyed 
it. How strangely altered seemed their relative posi- 
tions since they last met I Then Mr. Blunt’s hectoring 
and bluster had completely cowed the sensitive organ- 
ization of the curate ; his loud voice jarred upon him 
and drove him to silence. Now it was Mr. Cameron 
who spoke, Mr. Blunt who listened, hanging on every 
word of assurance and encouragement the other gave 
him. 

Skilled in administering comfort, Mr. Blunt found 
himself gaining courage ; he was another being since 
Mr. Cameron had come. But what would happen when 
he left him ? There was still to be bridged over that 
two hours’ journey in the train, and the drive from the 
station. Oh, the delay was sickening ! 

“ Shall I go up with you ? Would you like it ? ” 

Mr. Blunt almost broke down under the weight of 
his gratitude ; it was the very thing he had been long- 
ing for, but had not dared to ask. Those who never 
put themselves out to accommodate others, when want- 


ROBIN, 


261 


ing favors for themselves are apt to over estimate their 
obligation. 

It was nothing to Mr. Cameron to accompany him 
to London. He would have made the same offer, only 
more readily, to the poorest parishioner. 

^‘Then pick me up at my lodgings as you go past,” 
he said ; and away he rushed to run in at the rectory; 
so that they might know for what reason he had gone 
away. 

“ ril walk down with you.” said Georgy ; and there 
she was standing when Mr. Blunt drove up, ready with 
cheery words and good wishes to start them on their 
way. 

“ And tell Mrs. Christopher if she wants any help to 
send for me ; I’m first-rate hand at sick-nursing, you 
know.” 


Who, at parting, shall say what their next meeting 
may be ? 

Mr. Blunt and Robin had never seen each other 
since that day when Christopher had come between 
them ; then, furious, exasperated, their thoughts had 
been centred on themselves, their anger on each other. 
Now, when, with noiseless steps and knees that trem- 
bled under him, Mr. Blunt found himself at the door 
of the sick-room out of which Robin had come, both 
he and she seemed to have merged their individuality. 
For her, he was Christopher’s father ; for him, she was 
Christopher’s wife. Had he taken her hand ? Had 
she given it ? What matter ? they did not stop to con- 
sider. All Mr. Blunt knew was that to his ear there 
came a muffled whisper : He will not know you, but 
he has been talking about you all day ; ” and then he 
tip-toed inside, and Robin went down to speak to Mr. 
Cameron. 

They were still talking when Mr. Blunt joined them. 
His face was drawn, and there was an anxious look in 
his eyes ; but the terrible fear, that by some accident 
his son had been killed — was already dead, had been 


262 


ROBIN, 


relieved. He could breathe again, and hope had 
returned with reaction. 

“ Who’s the doctor you’ve called in ? ” he said to 
Robin. They spoke to me about a Mr. Martin ; is 
that him ? I shall send off at once for Gull, and I’ll 
go myself for Sir William Jenner; he’s the one you 
ought to have had, he’s seen him before. And who 
was it that gentleman in the train was speaking of, Mr. 
Cameron, as being so clever 'I Ah, yes, Lamb — that 
was the name ; we’ll have him.” 

‘‘ But he’s a homoeopath ! ” said Mr. Cameron. 

“ I don’t care what he is, so long as he cures my 
son ! ” 

“ You know in the profession they don’t agree ! 

Then let ’em fight it out ! I shan’t ask the reason 
why, provided they’ll set him on his legs again. I’ll 
have every doctor in London, no matter who they are 
or what they call ’em ; it’s all one to me, so long as 
they can make a cure of him.” 

The old bluster was coming back. The belief in his 
luck, and that things always came round right with him, 
was returning ; he put his hands deep into his pockets, 
opening and shutting his palms on the imaginary gold 
that he would shower on the fortunate restorer of his 
son’s health. Mr. Cameron, looking at him, sighed, 
and then cast his eyes at Robin. 

“You seem very tired,” he said gently. ‘‘I am 
afraid you have not had much rest.” 

The remark attracted Mr. Blunt’s notice. 

“ That was a nurse, wasn’t it, I saw up there ? ” 

“Yes, there is a nurse ; but until somebody came I 
wouldn’t leave him alone with her.” 

“ That was right — quite right,” said Mr. Blunt, 
approvingly ; adding in a more kindly tone : “ But you 
can go to bed now. I’ll see after him. He shan’t want 
for nothing : he shall have the best that money can get. 
Ah ! the prince himself shan’t ha’ been better ’tended 
on than he shall be. How it happened he’s laid up like 
this I can’t think. Whatever brought it on.? Can you 
form an idea, eh ? ” 


ROBIN. 


263 


**The carriage we came in from Whitby was cold 
and draughty,” said Robin ; “ that was the first of it. 
He was very unwell then for more than a week, but he 
so anxious to go and get lodgings and find out about 
you. Oh, I can see it all now ! ” she exclaimed, burst- 
ing into tears suddenly. “ His coat was thin, and the 
day was bitterly cold, and the omnibuses were so full, 
that he had to go outside two of them.” 

“ Outside } Outside a ’bus ! My son ! ” Mr. Blunt 
staggered a full pace back, staring at her. 

“And he was away almost the whole day long,” she 
continued, “ without having anything proper to eat.” 

Why, he must have been mad — clean gone out of 
his senses ! and you too, to have let him ! ” 

She shook her head. 

“You forget how anxious we were to go away from 
here. He knew how little money there was left, and a 
long bill owing.” 

Mr. Blunt dropped down into a chair as if he had 
been shot at.” 

“ My God ! ” he cried ; “ I’ve killed him ! He’ll die. 
he’ll die ! I know he will. O Lord, what shall I do, 
what shall I do ? what will become of me ? And hiding 
his face in his hands, the wretched old man bnrst into 
tears. 

Robin jumped up and stood gazing at him with alarm. 
Mr. Cameron, with a ready guess at the remorse which 
had seized him, went over and put his hand upon his 
shoulder. 

“ Th’ Almighty’s going to punish me by taking him 
from me,” he went on brokenly ; “ I holding out and he 
wanting. O Lord, spare him ! only spare him, and I 
don’t care what else comes to me ! ” 

“ Hush !” said Mr. Cameron sternly. “ You forget 
that God is not man. Do you think that our Heavenly 
Father is influenced by such motives as have made you 
stubborn and revengeful to your son ? Let us down on 
our knees and ask mercy of Him ; let us beg Him to 
spare Christopher to us. I will offer up a prayer in 
which we will all join.” 


264 


ROBIN. 


And they all three knelt down, Mr. Blunt the first to 
shuffle off his chair, the last to rise. All his pomposity 
and swagger had gone from him ; there was no more 
talk of what he was going to do ; the all-important I — 
/—had dropped out of his conversation. Only when 
Mr. Cameron spoke of returning, he implored him not 
to leave them ; and when Robin bade him good-night, 
he whispered in her ear : 

“ Pray for him again. Pray God to spare him ! 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Everyone was agreed that few things were more touch- 
ing than old Blunt's devotion to his son. Really he 
might be pompous and vulgar, but he must certainly be 
a kind-hearted man. 

Most of us are caught by sentiment, and in Wadpole 
the story of the father's distress, his suffering, and now 
his joy at the so-far-made recovery, appealed to peo- 
ple's sympathies and opened their hearts towards him. 

The whole neighborhood far and near, for miles 
around, called to make inquires after Christopher , and 
in place of ignoring Mr, Blunt, as formerly, he was 
asked for especially to receive the congratulations 
everyone was anxious to give to him. 

Snatched from the very jaws of death, Christopher 
had been brought back to Priors. Again he and 
Robin were living under the same roof as his father. 

It was Robin herself who had made the proposal, 
Mr. Blunt had not dared to ; and though Christopher 
was filled with an unspeakable yearning to be back in his 
old home, with its quiet and comforts around him, he 
forebore to let drop even a hint that might influence 
Robin in any way ; but the one wish of her heart now 
was to make amends to Christopher. She wanted him 
to see by her devotion, how she had learnt to value his 
generosity. For far beyond anything it is possible to 
put into words had been his tenderness towards her — 


ROBIN. 


265 


SO enduring and so great that the confidence between 
them was complete ; and saving only where the knowl- 
edge would now give him pain, nothing was hidden by 
her. In this offer to return to Priors with his father, 
Robin saw another opportunity ; and in the joy with 
which Christopher received pleasure and satis- 
faction he evinced, she was amply rewarded for any 
sacrifice it had cost her. 

Still far too weak to be able to receive ordinary visi- 
tors, Mr. Cameron, and with him Georgy Temple, came 
daily to see him. Their engagement had become an 
acknowledged fact now, and the wonder and amaze- 
ment of it past ; no one except Mrs. Temple troubled 
themselves about it. Mr. Blunt had to confess himself 
staggered, and did not feel easy until he had trumpeted 
forth his penetration, and how he had hinted as much 
to her mother. 

Not,’’ he said, that then I took it by any means 
for granted, you know ; but she was happening to be 
mentioning a certain gentleman who had popped off in 
a hurry after getting his congee , and he nodded his 
head and winked his eye meaningly ; “ and I asked 
her if it might’t have something to do with a certain 
Mr. C , who didn’t live fifty miles off from here.” 

Robin was close by, and Georgy for a moment felt a 
little confused before her. What would she think of 
this story her mother had gone about telling, that 
she had refused Jack? Looking at Robin, she said 
frankly : 

My mother will have it that my cousin made an 
offer to me ; but those who know him and me best are 
better informed on the matter.” 

It was Robin’s turn now to grow red, Christopher’s 
to come to the rescue. 

But every one knew,” he said, that Mr. Dorian- 
Chandos meant always to go. I remember the very 
first time I saw him he spoke of his intention to 
travel.” 

“ And he did go once,” said Mr. Cameron, and 
came back again. ‘‘ Oh, how I did dislike that fellow 


266 


ROBIN. 


that night ! and the odd thing was I couldn’t think why, 
for it hadn’t struck me then about being in love with 
Georgy, you know.” 

The laugh turned against him gave the conversation 
a little diversion, and it wandered away from Jack into 
a discussion on the prospects of marriage and the 
hopes entertained by Mr. Cameron regarding a living. 
How pleasant it was to lie there and listen to the 
banter which went on between them ! Many times 
Christopher found himself laughing quietly, more 
especially when, after a time, Robin had been drawn 
in and was led away to be as merry as it was her wont 
to be. 

That night, walking home, Mr. Cameron gave Georgy 
the history of the probation their two friends had gone 
through, and how close the recent trial had drawn them 
together. 

“ I love that girl,” he said, speaking of Robin ; “ and 
you, Georgy, must love her too.” 

“ Well,” she said, ‘‘ I don’t say that I won’t. I’m a 
little inclined that way already, which speaks volumes 
for my good disposition, seeing that the two men I think 
most of have each separately made the same demand 
of me already.” 

Yes, but mine is in a very different way.” 

No,” she said stoutly; ‘‘I don’t know that it is. 
When Jack asked me to be good to her, he had not a 
thought beyond being her friend ; the mistake he made 
was in being over-confident.” 

Later on, when Georgy had convinced herself by 
seeing the good understanding which existed between 
the husband and wife, she purposly introduced Jack’s 
name. 

“ I want to get over,” she said, the little awkward- 
ness there seems to be in talking about him. Some day 
he will return, and then what are we to do ? ” 

So to Robin when alone, or if together with Chris- 
topher, she began speaking of Jack, telling them 
where he had been, what he had seen, what he was 
doing. 


ROBIN. 


267 


He had just reached Calcutta when he wrote last/’ 
she said on one occasion. 

It must be a great pleasure to see his mother,” 
Robin ventured to say. 

‘‘ H’m ! ” and Georgy puckered up her face. “ I 
can’t say; from the tone of his letter it did not partic- 
ularly strike me that he would break his heart over 
their parting. But I know her — at least I know 
her through my father and that is quite enough for 
me.” 

‘‘ Does he intend to stay long ? ” asked Christopher. 

Not with her — I don’t think he does. I don’t think 
he quite knows what he means to do ; sometimes he 
speaks of returning, sometimes of going on. Papa 
wants him to come home at once, but I don’t know 
whether he’ll do so. He hasn’t asked my advice, or 
I’d settle his plans in the twinkling of an eye.” 

Why, what advice would you give him } ” said 
Christopher. I’m curious to know.” 

In the first place I would tell him to come back for 
reasons that make it important he should be here ; and 
secondly, I should recommend him to settle down and 
take a wife to look after him — he’ll have to marry — he 
must ! Who’s the estate to go to ? ” 

Jack marry ! Jack have a wife ! The thought rushed 
upon Robin as if such an idea had never presented 
itself to her before. She felt obliged to move, to alter 
her position. She put down the work she had in her 
hand, and stood up for a moment, almost unconscious 
of what she was doing. 

Are you going for my medicine ? ” Christopher 
asked, and Robin was off, relieved by the necessity of 
something to do. 

All that evening she was more than ordinarily de- 
voted to Christopher ; watching him, she seemed to an- 
ticipate every wish and want, and when the others had 
left, and they two were alone, she went over to him, 
and while settling his cushions, said : 

‘‘Christopher, I want you to get strong; you must 
make haste, and be as quick as ever you can, and let 


368 


ROBIN. 


us get away from here and go to some place where it is 
sunny and warm, and you will get well. I am longing 
to be off with you again.” 

Oh, you may depend upon me ! Tm not going to 
waste my time ; I^m going to put my back into it, I can 
tell you.” 

He spoke cheerily, although his heart was not in 
what he said. Far rather than go anywhere away 
would he remain where he was. Already the invalid 
dread of travel and bustle possessed him, while each 
day seemed to increase the sweet repose which had 
come to him since he had been here. Surely never be- 
fore had the place looked so lovely, the fields so green, 
the sky so blue ; in every passing change of nature a 
fresh beauty seemed opened to Christopher’s eyes. The 
budding trees, the bursting blossoms, all seemed to him 
to speak of that Hand which made these things so fair 
to see. 

“ What are you thinking of, Christopher ? ” Robin 
would ask, as he lay there with his eyes fixed, silent, 
lost in thought ; and brought back to earth, Christo- 
pher would say : 

‘‘ I don’t think I was thinking at all. I was only 
wondering, when all is so beautiful here, what can 
heaven be ? ” 

Although removed from immediate daiiger, Christo- 
pher’s recovery was anything but complete. The doc- 
tors who had seen him dwelt much on the benefit to 
be derived from a milder climate, and the efforts of 
those around him were directed towards building up 
strength sufficient for him to undertake the journey. 
Since his return to Wadpole his improvement had been 
so marked as to justify hopes being entertained of a 
speedy departure. 

It’ll be a hard matter for me to bear up when he 
goes away,” Mr. Blunt had said to Mr. Cameron ; add- 
ing in answer to the curate : Oh, they won’t want me ; 
there’s never been a mention of my going. I should 


ROBIN. 269 

only be one in the way — as I expect I am now very 
often ! 

Jealous as he still remained, the old man was at 
length learning the hard task of yielding up his will for 
the sake of his son. 

Here, you give it to him,^^ he would say to Robin, 
when he had been at much pains to procure something 
he fancied Christopher might like. “He'll take it from 
you — eat it if you ask him." 

Little did Robin ever guess the sting it gave him to 
say those words. Mr. Blunt had suffered a martyrdom 
before he had been brought to confess that she might 
have a precedence before himself. 

Since Christopher had been mending, except in an 
indirect way to Mr. Cameron, Mr. Blunt had never 
reverted to the circumstances which had caused his 
son's illness. Finding when he came home that every 
one attributed it to the draughty carriage in which he 
had traveled from Whitby, Mr. Blunt adopted the 
reason which the curate had circulated ; but compunc- 
tion was still the mainspring of all his actions, and 
dozing, he would be going over that six months' strug- 
gle, every detail of which, in those first few days of the 
illness, he had made Robin relate to him. 

With Christopher he had never approached the sub- 
ject ; to hint at it in any way he found impossible. 
Actions, not words, must tell Christopher how sorely 
he repented. To every one his changed manner to his 
son was visible, and it established their good opinion 
of him that he continued to show so much feeling and 
delicacy. Among others, the rector noticed it ; and 
one day, paying a visit to Christopher, in token of his 
interest he said : 

“ I wish your father had something that would 
interest and occupy him. He must find time hang very 
heavy on his hands." 

“ I fear he does," said Christopher. “ I often wish 
he had something to do ; but at his age a fresh pursuit 
is difficult to take up." 

“ It is." 


270 


ROBIN, 


Particularly to one accustomed to manual labor, as 
he has been. Work — if not the actual work itself, 
superintending such as he has been used to — that is 
what would really interest him, and he’ll do it well, 
too.” 

“ Then why don’t you give him the opportunity ? 
He was talking before you came down of finding you a 
house : express a wish that he should build one for 
you.” 

A slight flush came into Christopher’s face. 

“ Sometimes,” Jie said, “ I think I may never want 
one.” 

Come, you must not talk like that,” said the rector, 
encouragingly. I trust before long we shall see you 
on your legs again.” 

Christopher smiled. 

“ Oh, so do I,” he said ; “ but I asked Cameron the 
other day, to tell me the truth, what they said about 
me.” 

Well ? ” 

Yes, he told me. I knew I must be in a very 
critical state ; not without hope — yet not without dan- 
ger. It’s best to know, isn’t it ? ” 

It’s best that you should think so, my good fel- 
low,” and the rector sighed softly. 

“ Yes, because, too, of anything one would like to 
do. I should like to have a church built. If I could 
persuade my father, Mr. Temple , would you help 
me ? ” 

‘‘ I, Christopher .? ” 

“ Yes ; because I want it built at Uplands ; and it’s 
your parish, you know.” 

‘‘ Those two, Georgy and Colin Cameron, have been 
talking to you, I can see.” The rector shook his head 
a little gravely. 

‘‘ Not to me they haven’t ; but I have heard them 
laughing together when they were sitting with Robin. 
It was she principally who told me about it, and we 
both said what a nice thank-offering it would be.” 

Mr. Temple’s face brighteited. 


ROBm, 


271 


“ Well, yes it would,’’ he said ; “ but I know you, 
Christopher. You had a little thought of Cameron 
and Georgy all the time.” 

‘‘ Knowing about them didn’t present any objection.” 

‘‘ Ah, so I fancied.” And he sat thoughtfully for a 
little time. No, no,” he said, shaking his head ; “its 
too much to hope it will ever come to pass. They’ll 
have to wait for something else to turn up — my toes, 
most likely. I’m not as young as I used to be, and its 
a comfort to me to think, if anything should happen, 
that Jack would be certain to pass on the living to 
Georgy’s husband.” 

“ Should we have to get his consent about Up 
lands .? ” 

“ I suppose we should. I am not very well up in 
such matters, but of course he’d have to be asked ; he’s 
patron of the living, and lord of the manor too.” 

“ When you write, would you ask him 1 ” 

Mr. Temple hesitated. 

“ I don’t know that I have any right to say ‘ No ; ’ 
but the cost would be very great, and your father ” 

“ Oh, leave my father to me.” He laid his hand on 
his heart. “ Something here tells me,” he said, “ that 
when I see my way to asking him, he won’t refuse me.” 

“ Neither will I, then. Make your mind easy ; I’ll 
write to the Squire for you.” 


CHAPTER XL. 

The same mail which took out Mr. Temple’s letter 
to Jack, took one also from Georgy. 

“ . . . Everyone is wishing you back,” she wrote. 
“ The other night, at ‘ Priors,’ with the Christopher 
Blunts, we were all talking of you. Have you heard 
how ill he has been ? — not expected to recover, but 
now mending, and ordered abroad immediately ? They 
will start as soon as he can go, and I do not know 
when it is likely they will be back again. Perhaps I 


ROBIN, 


272 

may as well say I have grown much more lenient to 
your once-upon-a-time weakness for Robin ; the truth 
is, I know her now, and my verdict on you would be, 
‘ He couldn’t help it.’ You have no idea how devoted 
to her husband she is — quite different to anything we 
used to see. The love is by no means all on one side 
now, as I once feared it might be. 

1 have no separate news to tell, and, as papa is 
writing, you shall be spared repetition. He will let you 
know how much you are wanted at home, but by no 
one more than me; so come back. Jack, ^^7.^ Your 
would-be cousin, Colin Cameron, still continues spas- 
modically jealous of you. Yet my cry is, Come — 
come soon, by return of post if you can ; only come ! 
come ! come ! ” 

Who shall separate love from jealousy ? 

Jack crushed up the letter in his hand, as if it con- 
tained something he could not bear to see. Then he 
said : 

‘‘Well! why not What good is there in staying 
away } If they are not there, I may as well go.” And 
he stood hesitating, frowning, measuring the attraction 
to return with the temptation which had driven him 
away. 

When a man has come out of 5uch a furnace as 
Jack had passed through, he dreads the heat of the 
fire, although it is afar. But subtle as love’s power is, 
most men have interests in life in which it plays no 
part. On these, of late. Jack had tried to fix his 
thoughts. It was in the distraction they would bring 
that his hopes were centred. 

He had done with love forever, so he said; and, 
saying it, he would straightway fall to dreaming about 
Robin, recalling bitterly the time when, knowing her 
love was solely his, he had held it but cheaply. 

“ ^I had but spoken to her then ! ” 

Ah, little “ how great a part you play in many a 
life-long tragedy ! 

Besides these two letters from Georgy and Mr. 


ROBIN. 


373 


Temple, there were several others of more or less 
importance, all bearing on the advisability of return. 

The country was in an agitated state ; the county 
member was an old man ; there was a very general 
feeling in Wadpole that his mantle would fall befittingly 
on the shoulders of Mr. Dorian-Chandos. But how 
could it reach him when so far away ? Moreover, it 
was highly essential to the Liberal interest that a popu- 
lar representative ready to step in should be near. 
Then on the estate the tenants were dissatisfied ; a fear 
was spreading that, like his uncle. Jack did not mean to 
live among them. 

I must go back,^’ he said ; “ I can’t go farther on, 
that’s plain. And if what Georgy says is true, it ought 
to make my task easier. After the first I need not live 
there altogether ; and when they are there I need not 
see much of them. At all events the thing has to be 
done, and I must do it ! ” 

For the moment decision generally makes us feel 
lighter. Jack gathered up his correspondence, spread 
out Georgy’s letter, folded it up, and with the rector’s 
put those two separate together. “ I can’t make out 
what it is that he means about Uplands, and the Blunts 
building a church there.” And in truth the rector had 
intentionally been rather vague ; he was somewhat in 
doubt himself whether it might not prove a sick man’s 
fancy. Everyone could see that Christopher’s state was 
critical ; but then he had always been delicate, and 
those creaking doors were proverbial for lasting out 
those that looked stronger. However, if it never came 
to anything — and raising it on old Blunt’s gratitude 
was very much like a foundation of sand — so long as 
it helped to bring Jack home he did not mind. Mr. 
Temple had a keen relish for politics ; and since this 
distant rumor of a dissolution he had been anxious 
beyond measure that Jack should return. The half of 
his letter had been filled with what this one thought, 
and that one said ; and these expressions of his neigh- 
bors’ good opinion naturally gratified Jack’s pride 
immensely. 

18 


274 


ROBIN, 


A man is worth little who feels no ambition. And 
already Jack’s thoughts had run so far ahead that his 
canvassing was over ; he had obtained his seat, and 
was making his maiden speech in Parliament. 

What is it that ofttimes, in a moment, turns the 
current of our thoughts, and of a sudden brings us 
face to face with some forgotten danger ? There, spread 
out before him as he had not seen it until now, lay the 
whole of the misery w^hich, had not Christopher inter- 
ferred and his better self prevailed, would have been 
now entailed on him and his forever ! “ Thank God ! ” 
he said fervently ; and so great a hold had it taken on 
him that he had to wipe the damp moisture from his 
forehead. 

Perhaps until now Jack had never realized how 
much value he set on all he would have forfeited. 
Mentally he drew a picture of himself as he would 
have been, with the world condemning him and its back 
turned on him. Exiled from his home, dreading to 
meet friends and neighbors, forced into company with 
those he despised, driven to seek distraction where he 
could find it. And then Robin ! Oh ! his soul w^as 
stirred, his heart grew sick recalling women he had 
known in the position she would have been in. Although 
they might be separated forever a thousand times rather 
as they were ! He had her memory still to hold dear, 
the memory of his pet, his plaything, his child-love 
Robin, with which none living could interfere ; and 
those days coming back, they brought with them recol- 
lections of her, games they had had together, lessons 
he had taught her, little things she had learnt to do for 
him. Again he watched the would-be nimble fingers 
struggling with the buttons she wanted to master. And 
then once when something ailed him, her ecstasy at 
his consenting to take some tisa7ie she had made, the 
eager face, the loving, tender eyes — ah, how little 
changed since then ! “ Never ! ” he said ; “ no other 

could ever fill her place.” Love lay buried in his heait, 
and over it “ Sacred to Robin” was written. 

A veiy sober mood hung over Jack that day, set 


ROBIN. 


275 


down by his mother to their approaching separation. 
Lady Malcolm, never having troubled herself about her 
son in her life, suddenly discovered for him the most 
ardent affection. ‘‘ And the dear boy is so attached 
to me,’’ she said to those around ; naturally he feels, 
who else is there that can take such an interest in his 
welfare ? ” And in token of this. Jack was let have no 
peace on one subject — he must get married ; he ought 
to get married : whom would he marry ? 

But think, my dear — only consider. You must 
some day marry somebody.” 

Lady Malcolm felt her time was short; she must 
make the most of it. 

‘‘ Must I ? ” said Jack, unmoved. “ I don’t see the 
necessity. I have spent twenty-seven years of single 
life very happily. 

You forget that your uncle was alive. You had 
nothing to leave then — no responsibily.” Jack looked 
no more convinced. “ What would become of the 
estate, with no brother ; unfortunately none that can 
inherit after you.” 

So far as the small Malcolms were concerned. Jack 
felt devoutly thankful. 

Oh, there are the Temples,” he said inadvertently. 

The Temples ! What Temples ! the George Tem- 
ples ? that family ? ” 

7%^?/ family,” echoed Jack, imitating her emphasis. 

Lady Malcolm sniffed the air with contracted nos- 
trils, as if even at that distance their odor was offensive 
to her. I always detested Maria Temple,” she said, 
‘‘ and I dislike her husband inexpressibly ; and there 
are no sons there.” The want made her voice more 
cheerful. 

“There are daughters, though,” said Jack, mali- 
ciously, his back a little up now. When she had not 
cared what had become of him, the Temples had always 
made a home for the lonely boy. “ Isabel, the married 
one ; Dora, the youngest ; and Georgy.” 

“ Georgy ! why does she get separate mention ? ” 


276 


ROBIN, 


Because she is deserving of separate notice, besides 
being an especial favorite with me.’’ 

“ Oh, really ! I was not aware ! My future daughter- 
in-law, I presume, that is to be ? ” 

“No,” said Jack, stolidly; “she wouldn’t have 
me.” 

His mother gave a contemptuous little laugh. 

“ I don’t see how you can possibly suppose that ; ” 
and then her tone altered, and with a sharp look at 
him she added ; “ unless you’ve asked her already.” 

Jack did not reply. 

“ I won’t believe it ! ” she said angrily ; “ don’t tell 
me that one of those girls — one of Maria Temple’s 
daughters — has refused you ? ” 

“ My good mother, pray spare me ! As you your- 
self often say, we must draw a line somewhere, and I 
draw mine at naming the young ladies who have rejected 
me.” 

“ Ridiculous ! absurd ! ” said Lady Malcolm. “ I 
hate mysteries ! if you can’t have confidence between a 
mother and a son, where is it to be ? ” and fearing if 
she stayed longer her ruffled feelings might lead to a 
further display of temper, she left Jack to himself, de- 
termined to write to Wadpole by that mail and find out 
what truth there was in this story. 

Few moments come more sadly than those in which 
we realize that some one very near to us has no part 
in what we feel and what we do. Just now Jack had 
a terrible hungering after a little sympathy, not so 
much in speech as in person. He wanted to talk with 
some one, to open himself out, in a way ; and he had 
to confess that his mother was further off from him now 
than when they were, except in name, absolutely 
strangers one to another. Looking at her picture from 
time to time — she was a very beautiful woman when 
the portrait had been taken — Jack had built a castle in 
the air, which had crumbled in pieces the very day 
after his arrival. It was his first experience of worldli- 
ness in the midst of domesticity, and the atmosphere of 
the home disagreed with him entirely. 


ROBIN, 


277 


He felt at once that after having fulfilled the decent 
requirements entailed by such a far-off visit, he should 
be only too glad to get away ; and he sat down to this 
feeling the hurry he was in to make the arrangements 
for his departure. He did not write to say he was 
coming, because he should get to England almost as 
soon as his letter ; and he seldom had experienced a 
more thorough sense of relief than when he had made 
his farewells and was fairly started on his homeward 
journey. A feverish haste possessed him to get back ; 
and now, the monotony of steamer-life beginning, it 
struck him a little drearily that he had not much of per- 
sonal interest to go back to — ^he could not even claim 
Georgy now as he used. 

“ I suppose,” he thought, she’ll be wanting to get 
married. Fancy her choosing that curate chap!” 
There was a soiipmi of humiliation in the fact. Cer- 
tainly, even up to the time of his leaving. Jack had 
always believed in an under^current of more than sis- 
terly regard entertained for himself by* Georgy. “ I 
wonder,” he said, “ if nothing of this sort had come 
about, whether in time I should have brought myself to 
think about it ; ” and after a few minute’s reflection : 

No,” he said, never ; it would be like marrying a 
sister to marry Georgy.” 

Jack had got rid of his mother, but the thoughts of 
marriage still pursued him. When one has something 
to leave, he wants somebody to leave it to. Who was 
that somebody to be ? 


CHAPTER XLI. 

During the first few weeks after Christopher Blunt 
returned to Wadpole, so marked and visible was the 
improvement he daily made that it began to be counted 
on as all but certain that before long he would be suf- 
ficiently convalescent to bear the fatigue of another 
removal. 


278 


ROBTN, 


Those who congratulated Mr. Blunt on his son’s re- 
covery further cheered the old man by pointing out that 
this power of regaining strength argued a sound consti- 
tution, and doubtless, though Christopher might never 
be more robust than he had hitherto been, it was not 
impossible he would outlive many who now came to 
make inquiries about him. 

Already a dozen eplans were under discussion as to 
where their first move should be, Robin receiving more 
gratitude than he once would have conceived it possi- 
ble to give her, because, without in any way asking 
the question, she had assumed it a matter of course 
that Mr. Blunt should accompany her and Christo- 
pher. 

Happily the weather was not very severe, and noth- 
ing now but a little more strength was needed to 
commence their journey. But having reached, and 
very rapidly too, a certain stage of recovery, Christo- 
pher seemed to come to a standstill, and nothing that 
was suggested, or thought of, seemed to advance him 
further. 

Mr. Blunt, finding ease in the feeling that he was 
doing something, summoned from London one phy- 
sician after another, but with no better result than all 
agreeing, that additional strength must be gained before 
it would be prudent to move him. How was that 
strength to be obtained ? No one seemed able to solve 
the question Christopher, happy, tranquil, surrounded 
by those he best loved, seemed the only one not 
disturbed by the delay. 

Since February, when they had brought him down to 
Wadpole, the winds of March had blustered and swept 
by, the showers of April had watered leaf and bud, 
and now May was coming to a close — fresh, flowery 
May, sweet month of blossom. Very sorely had the 
shifting beauties of this fickle spring tried Christopher ; 
even Robin and his father could shut their eyes no 
longer, and although neither confessed it even to them- 
selves, each felt a terrible heart-sinking that in spite of 
all their efforts he was getting weaker. 


ROBIN, 


279 


Cheerful as he always was to them, striving to make 
light of his pains and troubles, this certainty had not 
escaped him either ; and one day when Mr. Cameron 
was sitting with him, he said suddenly, and apropos of 
nothing : 

“ I don’t believe that I shall ever get better, Came- 
ron.” 

Mr. Cameron was silent. 

‘‘ You don’t think so, do you.^ ” he went on to say, 
now pausing for a reply. 

‘‘Well, I don’t know that it counts for anything 
what I may think. I have so often taken it into my 
head that people won’t recover and they do, that posi- 
tively I begin to fancy I must be an alarmist — rather 
inclined to look on the dark side of things, you know.” 

Christopher smiled. 

“ I never discovered it before,”he said. 

“ No ; haven’t you ? I imagine I am, though,” and 
Mr. Cameron sighed a little despondingly. Of late he 
had been terribly cast down about his friend. It seemed 
to him easier to give up all the people in Wadpole than 
to part with Christopher. Constant companions the 
two had become. Not a day went by without some 
portion of it being spent together. 

Mr. Blunt was never better pleased than when the 
curate was with them. With the knowledge of past 
circumstances which he possessed, he could thoroughly 
unburden himself to Mr. Cameron, and give free vent 
to those self-reproaches wJiich so terribly oppressed 
him. 

“ These illnesses give us ample time to reflect,” said 
Christopher, resuming the conversation. 

“ They do indeed. To me the illnesses in our lives 
are like stepping stones across the dark river. At each 
one we pause and look back.” 

“ And forward, too.” 

And the beautiful hope lighting up Christopher’s 
face was reflected back in Mr. Cameron’s. 

“ Ah ! ” continued Christopher, grasping the hand 
stretched out towards him, events are often ordered 


28 o 


ROBIN, 


for us far better than at first we see. There was a 
time, as you know, when the thought of leaving all 
behind was a terrible wrench to me ; but not now — 
that is past — that has been taken away.’’ 

Noting things going on around, which it was thought 
he did not see, Christopher was aware of much which 
those near fancied hidden from him : the efforts at 
control made by his father and by Robin, so that no 
contention between them might disturb him in any 
way ; the struggle gone through by each ; the will sub- 
dued, the sharp words swallowed down — all was but 
the surface of veneer. Let the necessity go by, and 
the old arrogance and dislike was certain to burst forth 
on the part of his father. 

And then through the confidence freely given him 
while they were together, he was able now to more 
clearly understand Robin’s character. Unconsciously 
she had delivered to him the plummet by which he 
could sound the depths of her nature. Her heart 
given once there it would stay. However deep down 
she might bury Jack, the memory of past love would 
abide with her forever. Nothing was hidden that 
Christopher did not know. Long ago all had been 
confessed, and all forgiven her. 

Watching her, letting his gaze rest upon her as she 
sometimes sat, unconscious that her dreamy eyes 
betrayed the thoughts that strayed afar, Christopher’s 
heart would ask a question. Of what, of whom, was 
she thinking ?” — In the life she led now, there was 
such a lack of occupation, so many hours with nothing 
to do, nothing to make any call upon her. Idleness 
is a most seductive danger ; to those who have any- 
thing to forget, tired limbs often lessen the weight of 
heavy hearts. 

Robin was young, and when the years are few the 
stream of fancy runs so swift and strong, that every 
passing breath has power to set it flowing. 

True, Christopher had but to move, to sigh, to speak, 
and in an instant Robin’s care and thoughts were all 
centred on him. She was at his side, had taken his 


ROBm, 


281 

hand ; her head was nestled close down. Ah yes ! a 
thousand sorrows might be more sad than to be taken 
now ! But though he had tried to speak of the possi- 
bility of having to leave her, he had never found words 
to tell her of this fear. The mere approach of any 
doubt seemed to fill her with alarm ; the old look came 
back into her face which he remembered seeing there 
when together they were watching her father. 

So, except to Mr. Cameron, Christopher kept silent 
as to his misgivings. Besides, all was not yet lost ; 
hope still very often alternated with fear, and though 
seeing very clearly the gravity of his condition, he was 
aware that much yet remained in his favor. If he 
could but get sufficient strength to go away and try 
the prolonged benefit of some purer atmosphere, even 
the particular doctor to whom his faith was pinned did 
not despair. 

It was he who from his childhood had known Chris- 
topher. He had attended his mother, had been told 
the family history, and with Mr. Blunt, shared a 
knowledge of his disease which others knew nothing of. 

It was the recollection of those previous warnings 
given to him which now stung Mr. Blunt so severely 
in the midst of what he was doing. Suddenly, without 
any apparent reason, back would come some speech 
he had made, some wish he had uttered. How, 
thinking that money was running short, fancying that 
they must be pinched, he had hoped from his heart 
and soul it might be so. He’d starve them out ; want 
would soon bring them to their senses. If they didn’t 
know how to behave themselves, he’d teach them. 

Unhappy old man, these recollections now seemed 
to madden him ! To deaden their pain he would rush 
to the only remedy he knew of ; but with the dram in 
in his hand, he would pause, put it down, and turn 
away — even the solace of oblivion he was ready to 
forfeit, fearing it might be displeasing to Him who 
could restore Christopher. 

There was a terrible bitterness in the feeling that he 
was mocked by prosperity. Except in that one matter 


2S2 


ROBIN, 


of his son, everything was going well with him. Never 
had his lucky star seemed more in the ascendant. 
Shares which for years had been worth next to nothing 
daily began to rise in value ; ground which he had 
bought for a mere song people made him good offers 
for ; speculations, risky, wild, entered into when he 
was not quite master of his usual judgment, all turned 
to gold and prospered ; and in the midst there was a 
canker-spot that blighted everything, making what 
would have been joy, heaviness, and what would have 
been sweet, bitter. 

Though the riches of the whole world should come 
to him, of what value would they be with no one, when 
he was dead and gone, to leave them to ! 

In past days, before this dread had come, he had 
been full of rant and bluster as to what he meant to do. 
He would marry again, take another wife, have another 
family to make his heirs and leave his riches to. Now 
that the blow had fallen, every resource seemed taken 
away. Not a single thought of comfort presented 
itself to him. 

“ Father,^^ said Christopher one day, when, with the 
hope of interesting him, Mr. Blunt had been speaking 
of the unexpected increase in the value of some min- 
ing shares which for years had not paid a penny ; 
“ Father, if I get well, will you build a church for 
me?’^ 

“ Will I do what, my boy ? ’’ 

Christopher repeated the question. 

A church ! ” said the old man in amazement. 
‘‘ Why, you^re not thinking of turning parson, are 
you ? '' 

‘‘ No, it^s not that ; for my recovery — a thank-offer- 
ing I should like to be.’^ 

Ah ! I’d give most all I possess to see that brought 
about.’^ Then, fearing that he had spoken despondingly, 
he hastened to add : And so we shall, I hope, in good 
time ; only it seems rather long in coming. But there, 
it doesn’t do to be in too much of a hurry ; Rome 
wasn’t built in a day.” 


ROBIN. 


283 


Christopher smiled. 

“ IVe been thinking as I lay here/’ he said, how 
nice it would be to have something to point to — to 
show, so that people might say Look ! he built that, in 
memory of his son ! ” 

I don’t know what you mean,” said the old man 
hoarsely. How in memory } ” 

A terrible grip had seized hold of him ; his breath 
seemed to die away. 

“ In memory of my recovery,” said Christophei 
simply. “ Don’t you know how in old times people 
made vows if certain things occurred what they’d 
do ? ” 

“ Well ? and did it come to pass what they wan- 
ted ? ” 

‘‘ Generally, I think. Very often it did.” 

Mr. Blunt gave a sigh. Drowning man as he was, 
with every hope of safety sinking from his sight, each 
straw of promise was a thing to clutch at. If God — 
whom in prosperity he forgot and in trouble feared — 
was to be propitiated by the building of a church, he’d 
at once strike the bargain, and promise that the hand- 
somest money could raise should be built without 
delay. He’d superintend it himself ; it would be a work 
to occupy, to amuse him. 

Christopher, unable to guess at these resolutions, 
concluded that his hesitation sprang from the outlay 
such an undertaking would entail. 

“ You always say how lucky your life has been, 
father.” 

“Yes; and so I’ve had cause to. Up to now,” he 
added discontentedly. 

“ In many ways God has been very good to you,” 
continued Christopher. 

The old man gave a half-hearted nod of assent. 

“ I’m not making any complaint,” he said doggedly ; 
“ although a good deal of what’s been done has been 
taken out of late in all I’ve seen you forced to suffer. 
So if anything ’ll come of bnilding churches. I’ll raise 
one in every parish you like to name, so it puts you on 


2S4 


ROBIN. 


your legs again. You're all I've got to look to, Chris- 
topher ; so you must set to work and get well, 'cos of 
your old father." 

Christopher smiled encouragingly, but the father 
could not smile back ; the look that lighted up his son’s 
face stabbed him to the heart. He had to make a pre- 
tence of getting up to turn away, and stand looking for 
a moment out of the window. 

“ From there towards the right, you can see Up- 
lands," said Christopher. “ If the church stood on the 
hill, its spire would be visible from this window. And 
Cameron must be the rector ; then he and Georgy 
Temple could marry, and she wouldn't be separated 
from her father. Only think how many that would be 
making happy — me, Cameron, Georgy, and Mr. Tem- 
ple ! I call that getting at once the value of the 
money." 

‘‘Very well ; we'll talk the matter over again a little 
later. I see Robin coming up the walk ; I think at 
present we won't mention it before her." 

The instinct of suffering was beginning to make Mr. 
Blunt tender towards those who suffered. His own 
pain made him quick to detect the ring of the true 
metal; and though many sympathized with his trial, 
he knew that none but Robin shared in his agony. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

So as the months passed by the busy world went on 
its daily round, and the atom of it called Wadpole, 
while watching its course and the events in which it 
was pleased to fancy it had some share, grew unmind- 
ful of the interests close at hand, and ceased to be 
engrossed in the affairs of those who but a short time 
before had furnished the constant topic of conversa- 
tion. 

Every now and again a report that young Blunt 
was worse would set them speculating, and surmises 


ROBIN, 


285 


would be freely hazarded as to whether the old man 
would marry again ; and if he did or if he did not, 
what would become of Robin ? The feeling of want- 
ing to get rid of them had long since been swept away. 
Mr. Blunt’s anticipations had been more than verified. 
Had they been able to receive them, no one in the 
neighborhood would have refused an invitation to 
Priors. 

Georgy Temple was there every day : she and Robin 
were now thoroughly friends together; and if ever 
Robin went driving or walking to get the air, Georgy 
was sure to be with her. It had been so arranged in 
the family that while the two went out, Mr. Cameron 
took Robin’s place by Christopher’s side, and bore him 
company. 

Of those who saw him now, only two still clung to 
hope ; and of necessity these were the two to whom he 
was most dear, Robin and his father. 

It was not that they did not see. what others saw, but 
they could not give him up. With them hope meant 
Christopher ; to abandon one was to resign the other. 
The struggle they well knew would come, only they 
strove to keep it off a little longer. 

Alas ! how pitiful are the poor pretences to which in 
such straits as these we have recourse, how we talk of 
things in which there is neither heart nor interest, only 
that they serve to drift speech away from that which is 
absorbing and uppermost. 

At that terrible dinner which she and Mr. Blunt took 
each day together — Robin making no opposition be- 
cause Christopher wished it, and Mr. Blunt forced into 
acquiescence because had he said “ No ” he might have 
been asked his reason — every time they took their seats 
there was on the old man’s part the same assumption 
of his pompous manner; he brisked himself up, and 
puffed himself out, as if intending to do full justice to 
the dishes that were placed before him. He blamed 
Robin for not eating, and then sent his own plate away 
untouched ; would press her to take some wine — some 


286 


ROBIN. 


special wine that he had got up for her — and leave his 
own glass untasted. 

It began to give him pain to sec the young girlish 
face grow so pinched and thin, the cheeks lose their 
color and roundness. Mockery ! Was it coming to 
him to cling to Robin ? For the first time for months, 
when he reproved her for taking no care of her health, 
his voice sounded sharply. 

Akin to what took place at dinner was the panto- 
mime gone through each time the doctor^s visit was 
paid. Mr. Blunt greatly here relieved by the stric- 
tures he permitted himself to pass on the want of 
knowledge displayed by him. “ What,’’ he asked, 
could you expect from a country practitioner, a man 
whose life was spent in seeing farmers and plough- 
boys.” Necessarily he judged everybody else by them. 
You need to have the strength and constitution of a 
horse to satisfy such a man ! Of course he thought 
Christopher weak — how should he think otherwise } 
Years ago, when they first came to Wadpole, he had 
been called in and had said the very same thing then, 
and shook his head in despair over what turned out to 
be nothing worse than a cold. 

But in spite of his dissatisfatction, he hung back 
from sending for the other doctor — the one man in 
whom his confidence was placed. He knew that when 
he came he would not only have to hear the truth, but 
he would have to accept it ; and with a certain dread 
foreboding of what the truth would be, he delayed 
the summons, until a day came when Christopher was 
so much worse that without a word from anyone he 
sent off the letter, begging the great physician to come 
v/ilhout delay. 

* * * * * 

Silent, brooding, apart from the rest, the old man 
spent the morning in his library ; but as the hour 
drew near, forced by the fear of breaking down to 
assume more than his ordinary pompous manner, few 
would have guessed the weight of sorrow, the agony 


ROBIN, 287 

and despair, which that show of bounce and swagger 
was meant to cover. 

“ My friend, you grow worse as you grow older,’’ 
thought the doctor ; and Robin herself, troubled as she 
was, felt condemned at the shame for him which rose 
up within her ; it seemed like being disloyal to Chris- 
topher, more especially as, instead of noticing it, he 
seemed more affectionate than usual towards his father. 
Clear-sighted as he had grown, Christopher penetrated 
the disguise, saw what this manner was meant to cover. 

Pressed by the number of his engagements, the 
great man had explained that he should be forced to 
leave as soon as the sick visit was over. There was a 
train which would take him back to London, if he 
could get in time to the station. How Mr. Blunt 
fussed about the carriage being ready ! how he 
deplored that the doctor could not stay to luncheon I 
what a parade he made of the dainties that had been 
provided for him ! One might have imagined he had 
no other care, so completely did he throw himself 
into every matter which had no connection with his son. 

Unable to control her emotion, Robin had slipped 
out of the room. She would wait below until the 
doctor had gone, and then return. Already footsteps 
were on the stairs ; Mr. Blunt and he were coming^ 
down. 

‘‘ I should like to say a word to you alone before 
I go.” 

Mr. Blunt opened the door of the library, and they 
went in. 

What was it he wanted to say ? Robin felt she must 
wait and know ; if but a crumb of comfort, she must 
have it ; if all hope was crushed out for ever, she must 
hear it. Suspense had become intolerable ; she could 
bear it no longer. 

Oh, what an interminable time those few minutes of 
waiting seemed to be ! Would they never come ? 

The handle of the door turned. Robin breathed 
again. It must be all right, and what he had heard 
must be good. He was talking fast, though she could 


288 


ROBIN. 


not hear about what — laughing loudly and discor- 
dantly, bnt still laughing as the carriage drove away. 

For an instant she watched it going, and then 
quickly turned herself round. The door had opened ; 
Mr. Blunt had come in, and there, standing before her, 
was a man whose face was ashen, his cheek drawn in 
and sunken, his head drooped, his whole self fallen 
together. 

Involuntarily she made a step forward. 

Ids all over,” he said ; “ all over. Nobody can’t 
do nothing for him.” And for a second the two stood 
gazing blankly into each other’s eyes. 

Then, as if the weight of sorrow had rent her heart, 
there burst forth from Robin a cry, echoed by the old 
man, and they fell into each other’s arms, and together 
sobbed on one another’s necks. 

Grief, the one common grief, had overleapt all bar- 
riers. What was there to be remembered except that 
they must lose Christopher ? The fiat had gone forth 
— nothing more could be done tor him. He might 
linger a few days, or longer, but there upstairs he lay 
— dying. Death was waiting at the door ; already the 
shadow of his chill presence had fallen irK^that chamber. 

Robin, you’ll stay with me Yoii’lLstop here. I 
know I haven’t acted right by you before; but you won’t 
leave a broken-hearted childish old man, will you 

‘‘ Never,” she said. 

*‘You promise me that?” 

I do. I promise that so long as I live, to me you 
shall always be Christopher’s father.” 


CHAPTER XLHI. 

Generous hearts do nothing by halves. 

Constantly now, looking round the room in which 
Christopher lay, Robin would ask, Where is your 
father ? I must go fetch him.” And coming on the 
old man, stricken down and lonely, she would take him 


ROBIN, 


289 


by the hand and lead him to the bedside of his son, and 
there together they would sit, Christopher trying to win 
them from present sorrow by making plans of what he 
wished them to do when he should be no longer near. 

The reconciliation brought about between these two, 
to him most dear, had robbed death of its last sting. 
In the first freshness of his grief, his father would not 
be left alone, and, so long as she needed them, Robin 
would have a home and a protector. 

Very tenderly had Christopher commended his young 
wife to the care of his father, who, in his turn, had 
promised most solemnly to perform all he was asked to 
do for her. 

There was no need to make any demands of Robin. 
Knowing what Christopher would desire, his wishes 
were forestalled by her, and the best earnest of her 
future conduct was given in her present manner. 

Perfect faith, perfect hope, peace within, at charity 
with all the world — who might not envy Christopher ? 

It was only for those from whom he was going that 
pity was needed, and daily, as he lingered on, the sym- 
pathy with them grew stronger. 

People around talked about them, discussed them, 
spoke of the n in their letters ; so that it happened that 
Jack, just Irnded at Southampton and gone on to 
London to give some directions to his lawyer, was told 
by Mr. Clarkson of the sorrowful news about that 
‘‘ well-meaning young Blunt, who lay dying,’’ of his 
wife’s devotion, and the grief of the heart-broken old 
father. 

Christopher — Christopher Blunt, dying !” 

Could it be true — was it possible though Jack said 
but little in answer, he felt as if a blow had been dealt 
him which he staggered under. He left the office like 
one in a dream, to return an hour or so later, and desire 
that the papers which were to have followed him to 
Wadpole should be kept where they now were, as he 
had altered his plans and was going to remain in 
London. 

In the meantime, he had written to the rector an- 
19 


290 


ROBIN, 


nouncing his arrival, and had enclosed a note to Georgy, 
begging for an immediate answer. 

Come what might — however his interests might 
suffer — if this news proved true he could not go to 
Wadpole ; there would be a want of decency, of 
decorum in doing so. It might reach the ears of Chris- 
topher, and give him pain — might cause him, perhaps, 
to think worse things than he now did. 

The whole day, no matter what he did or where he 
went, he could not rid himself of thoughts of Chris- 
topher. His face haunted him ; his eyes pursued him ; 
a sense of having done him an injury weighed on him 
like a nightmare. 

If it was only possible that he could know something 
of what he felt — could have known how from his heart 
and soul Jack thanked him for what he had done, and 
what he had spared him from ! 

Casual acquaintances and friends whom he met, re- 
marked that they thought him altered, without quite 
knowing how. Some men, whom he dined with, voted 
him not half as cheery as he used to be. The truth 
being that Jack felt as if he was not wholly there. To 
keep his thoughts fixed on those present was an impos- 
sibility. Every now and then, while seeming to listen 
to some choice scandal or racy story, his imagination 
carried him away to a sick-bed, where a man lay dying 
and a wife stood watching. As an excuse for his going 
early, he pleaded fatigue from the journey, premised 
that he had not yet become accustomed to dry land 
again, and with the expressed certainty that he should 
be more himself on the morrow, went off to the hotel 
where he was staying. 

He wanted to be alone, by himself, ridded of compa- 
ny, so that he could give full rein to the thoughts that 
were hurrying at top speed through his brain. 

An indescribable sadness had taken possession of 
him. Mr. Clarkson’s report of Robin’s devotion, coup- 
led with the account given him by Georgy in her letter, 
left him with no doubt but that the love once poured 
out upon him had been transferred to Christopher. 


ROBIN. 


291 


And right it should be — only if it could have been at 
some less cost than the belief that he had deserted her 
— cast her aside ; — and he discontentedly reviewed the 
letter he had written her, thinking the best proof of 
how she had taken what he said lay in the fact, that the 
word he had asked for had never been sent in answer. 
This drop of gall, added to his melancholy, but 
strengthened its bitter flavor. Ah, there was a good 
deal in life that we made sorrowful ! Chances thrown 
away which we would give all we possessed to possess 
again. The same regret, he supposed, came in turn to 
everybody, only some suffered from ill-luck more than 
others — suffered deservedly, perhaps. Without saying 
that this was the case. Jack fell at once to compassion- 
ating Christopher. “ Poor fellow ! ’’ he sighed ; ‘‘ he 
does not seem to have had much that was bad to answer 
for ; and yet who could be in a more pitiful condition ? 
His one great desire granted him ; the wish of his life, 
Robin’s love given to him, and now he must leave her.” 

Without clothing his thoughts with words or even 
letting them take shape. Jack went on probing deeper. 
Regret, compunction, remorse, were stirred within him 
until the measure of self-approbation seemed emptied 
altogether, and he was looking at the man he really 
was, unconsciously comparing himself with Christopher. 
It did not occur to him to wonder how little he was oc- 
cupied by Robin. Death standing near seemed to hide 
her in its shadow. She was further removed from Jack 
than he had ever felt her. Without a thought of love, 
his heart lay within as a stone. How was this } Why 
should it be ? Had he ceased to care for her } 

The same question might have been asked of Robin, 
to whom a few days later, while walking in the garden 
together, out of the sick-room from which she had en- 
ticed her, Georgy Temple suddenly said : 

Did they tell you — have you heard that my cousin 
Jack has come home ? 

‘‘ Home ! Here ? ” 


292 


ROBIN, 


No, not here ; in London, where he speaks of re- 
maining.’^ 

“ Yes ; does he ? ’’ 

Robin said no more ; for some moments thought no 
more. So completely had close companionship and 
long watching fixed her thoughts on Christopher, that 
it needed a positive effort now to take an interest in 
anything not relating to him. 

Suddenly the words Georgy had said came back. 
Jack home! Jack near I Was it possible that she 
could be told this and not care ? She who a thousand 
times had gone over the meeting that must of necesity 
some day occur between them, and the distress and 
pain it would give her. 

Possessing a very accurate knowledge of Jack’s 
disposition, Robin had drawn upon her past experiences 
for the reproach he would feel towards her. Not a 
word had Christopher ever breathed of the letter in 
his possession ; and Robin never questioned but the 
cause of Jack’s absence had been the tear-stained, 
incoherent petition which she had entrusted her hus- 
band to send for her. 

Bitterly had often come the thought that Jack had 
taken his dismissal very readily, refusing, withholding 
the one boon she had so desperately craved of him, 
that he would say he forgave her. Ah ! forgiveness 
was not in Jack’s nature. Forgiveness belonged to 
Christopher. But now all this storm of discontent was 
gone, and in its place indifference had come ; so it 
seemed to no longer matter whether he came or stayed 
away — whether they met or were parted for ever. 

* * * * * * 

“I told her,” Georgy said, repeating what had 
occurred to Mr. Cameron ; “ but she hardly took any 
notice. She does not now, unless it happens to be 
something about Christopher. I could never have 
believed how wrapped up she had become in him ; it 
seems as if in losing him the whole world is going 
from her.” 

Mr. Cameron sighed. 


ROBIN. 


293 


And he is so different,” he said, “ so calm, so 
cheerful, so resigned ; interested in everything and 
everybody. You should have seen how his face lit up 
when I told him that Chandos had returned. ‘ Has 
he } ’ he said, and his voice sounded quite strong. 
‘ Now the only wish I have left will be gratified ; I 
shall see him again. Yesterday it didnff seem possible. 
All the day I was thinking so much about him.’ ” 

Georgy looked her surprise. 

‘‘ Really ! ” she said. ‘‘ I wonder why ? ” 

‘‘You must give me the address of his hotel, so that 
I may write to him to come down here. I am to ask 
him from Christopher. Dear fellow ! He said so 
simply, ‘ Tell him the request comes from me, and that 
he must not delay.’ ” 

“ Perhaps it is about the building of the church,” 
suggested Georgy. 

“ I don’t know ; he did not say what it was about, 
and I did not ask him. He wanted the letter written, 
and that was enough for me.” 

So the summons was sent ; and with Jack, to receive 
it was to obey. Never had he started on a journey 
with so much alacrity as now. By the next train he 
was on his way to Wadpole. 

^ .4^ 4^ 

*7\' ^ w 'TT W ‘7V 

Perhaps no better prepartion for entering that sick- 
room could have been made than the thoughts which 
bore Jack company. He had spent much time during 
his homeward journey from India in disciplining himself 
to pursue a certain marked-out course of action. He 
had made plans for the present, and arrangements for 
the future. Suddenly He who disposeth had stretched 
out His hand, and lo, the project of that labor was 
melted away ! 

Was Christopher wishing to reproach him or to 
forgive him 'I Was it to exact any promise, or because 
of that desire which sick men often feel to be at peace 
with all the world before they die ? 

And then came the thought of Robin ; how would 


294 


ROBIX. 


she meet him ? and what measure of the circumstances 
between them was known to those around ? 

Jack’s heart beat strangely as, leaving the carriage he 
had driven from the station in at the Lodge gate, he 
walked up the avenue. He had asked no questions of 
the few people he had seen ; and they, in their 
surprise at his return, of the cause of which they had 
never dreamed, had vouchsafed no information. 

The glory of departing summer lay on all around, 
flecking the trees with russet and with gold. There 
was a hush of stillness in the air, which made the 
rustle of the leaves distinct each time the soft wind 
swayed the branches and fanned them overhead. 
Between the trees a stretch of green spread out afar, 
with cattle, prized for the rareness of their breed, 
dotted here and there, taking their ease. 

Surely no other land could match the prosperous 
quiet of a scene like this. Jack had an English heart, 
with pride of country at its very core ; but now, as he 
went, all that he passed was lost to him, so strained 
were his eyes toward the house to catch a sight of it, 
and see the blinds still up, the windows open. 

A sigh of relief escaped him as the servant who had 
watched his approach advanced to meet him. 

“ Won’t you be pleased to take refreshment of some 
kind, sir ? ” he said, leading the way into a room where 
a well-spread table stood. Master thought, coming 
from London, you might feel the want of something.” 

No ; I had all I needed before starting.” 

“ Master hopes, sir, that you’ll please to excuse his 
not being in the way, but just at present he doesn’t 
feel equal to seeing anybody. Poor old gentleman ! 
’tis a terrible cut-up for him.” 

Naturally.” 

Mr. Christopher is being told that you’ve come. 
Should I inquire, sir, if he’s ready ” 

‘‘ Do.” 

The man left him, to return, after a few minutes 
delay, and said that Mr. Christopher was quite prepared 
to see him now. 


ROBIX. 


295 


He led the way. Jack followed him up stairs to a 
room the door of which was opened by some one who 
went out as he was admitted. 

There, in a bed drawn over near the window, the 
prospect from which he could see, lay Christopher. By 
his side sat Robin. 

Only a minute before, as the door was opening, at 
the thought that perhaps she was inside, that he should 
see her. Jack’s blood had seemed to turn to fire ; now 
already he had forgotten her — forgotten all else save 
that he stood in dread presence of visibly approaching 
death. 

She must have advanced to meet him, for they had 
shaken hands ; and yet it seemed to him that he had 
not seen her, so riveted were his eyes on Christopher. 

It is very good of you to come so soon,” he began 
in his feeble voice. I knew you would come, but I 
hardly dared to expect you so early.” 

Jack pressed the hand put into his. 

I cannot tell you how soriy^ I am to see you so ill,” 
he said earnestly, 

‘‘ I am sure of that ; there is no need to tell me. Of 
late I have so longed to see you again, — and you see 
the wish has been granted to me.” 

While they were speaking Robin had brought over a 
chair and placed it at the bedside, then she went to a 
further window and stood looking out. 

Christopher’s eyes followed her. 

‘‘ Robin,” he said, “ come over here near me ; I miss 
you.” 

She was at his side in an instant. 

‘‘ I want to talk to you both together.” 

And he looked at them, letting his eyes rest first on 
one and then on the other ; and then he stretched out 
his hands, and, while holding theirs, said : 

God is very good to let us meet like this again. 
My great desire was to say what I want to tell you like 
this — when I could speak to you both here, with the 
hand of each in mine.” 

Jack’s face showed the pain he felt : he could find 


296 


ROBI.V. 


no voice to speak in : his heart and pulses thudded 
violently. Robin, pale, careworn, with the fountain of 
her grief run dry, listened in silence. 

“ You must forgive me,’’ Christopher went on — it 
w^as to Jack that he was speaking — “ for having in any 
way broken a promise I once gave you. I could not 
leave unspoken anything for her to learn wdien I am 
gone. Oh, how blessed now comes the thought that 
she trusted me ! — that that same night, ignorant of 
what you had done, she told all to me ! You know 
now, clear love, don’t you, that I was witness of that 
scene about which I then feigned to know nothing.” 

Involuntarily Jack’s eyes were turned to Robin; 
hers w^ere fixed on Christopher. 

It must not pain you,” he w^ent on, “ anything I 
may say. It has no . pain for me ; only rejoicing to 
remember that you both show^ed me confidence — both 
listened to the voice which was stirring for good within 
you. The finger of that hand, always stretched out to 
help us in our need, was lain on both your hearts — a 
sacrifice was asked, a sacrifice made, a sacrifice accepted. 

His voice had sunk to a whisper ; so great was his 
w^eakness that he had to wait for his lips to be moist- 
ened before he could continue. 

After a time, with a feeble effort to take something 
from underneath his pillow, he show^ed them a packet 
which he would not let Robin open ; but unfolding the 
paper took out two letters, the seals of which had not 
been broken. 

‘‘ That is yours, Robin ; and this ” — turning to Jack 
— belongs to you ; neither of them have been touched 
or opened since they were wTitten. As you then gave 
them to me, so I now deliver them back to you. That 
same evening I fastened them in this, and locked them 
in a box ; and there, side by side, they have ever since 
lain together.” 

Mechanically Jack and Robin turned, and turned 
again, the letter each had been given. The sight of 
the hurried, hastily penned w'riting brought vividly 
back the circumstances of that repented of occasion. 


ROBIN, 


297 


Humbled, heart-strrcken, they turned towards Christo- 
pher. His face was smiling, his arms stretched wide 
as if to encircle them ; from out of his parted lips came 
faintly forth the word “ forgiven.’’ 

Already Robin had sunk down kneeling with her 
face hidden. Jack, untried in sorrow as she had been, 
struggled for an instant ; and then, perhaps for the 
first time since he was a lad, his emotion overcame him, 
and tears streamed from his eyes. 

Ah ! it is in moments such as these we recognize 
that the image man was made after is divine. All he 
possessed, even life itself. Jack was ready to give, so that 
by it he could save Christopher. 

Did Christopher by intuition guess this ? 

Exhausted he had sunk back, and there lay with his 
blissful eyes looking at the two heads bowed down on 
either side of him. 

How long did they so remain ? neither of the two 
could say ; all that they knew was that of a sudden 
Christopher seemed to gather up his strength, and raise 
himself so that he took their hands again, and, they 
looking, saw as it were an angel-face turned heaven- 
ward to ask a blessing on them. His lips still moved, 
although — his voice sunken to a whisper — the words he 
said no longer could be heard : only at the last they 
felt the hands he held he joined together, and while 
they still remained clasped, the spirit of Christopher 
passed away for ever. 


CHAPTER XLI\\ 

The stranger who visits Wadpole, and carries his 
steps a little further on to Uplands, is sure to be 
attracted by a name he hears coupled with many things 
he sees. 

Blunt’s cottage, Blunt’s institute, the church, the 
schools, are all the work of Mr. Blunt, whose pride 
now is to be connected with every charity around. 


298 


ROBIN. 


No longer ashamed of his self-made position, nor — 
as of yore — of his humble origin ; his boast now is that 
he was a working man, and made his money with the 
hands they see — hands which he tells them labored 
hard for years — hands which can labor still, as he has 
shown in the building of the church, raised to the 
memory of his son, and superintended by himself. 

Always being added to, always improved. Upland 
Church is the show church of the neighborhood. From 
far and near, for miles around, people come to its 
services. 

Mr. Cameron is the rector. He is married to Georgy 
Temple, and is firmer than ever in that once scofied-at 
conviction of being the most fortunate man in the 
world. 

Perhaps there does not live a happier woman than 
Georgy. The once neglected men and women amongst 
whom she dwells, much as they approve of their rector, 
simply worship her, and listen to her teaching with 
greater respect, because she is a good judge of a horse, 
and has such an eye for a dog. 

Mr. Temple, contented in having his daughter near, 
seems infected with a desire to follow — at a distance — 
the foot-steps of his son-in-law. He performs his own 
duty, and seems to find satisfaction in it ; although 
there are many in Wadpole still ready to affirm that 
necessity, not choice, is the main-spring of his actions, 
Mrs. Temple having declared that no curate shall put 
foot in the parish until she has married her daughter 
Dora. 

Mr. Dorian-Chandos, member for Wadpole, is 
one of the leading men in the county ; a good 
landlord, a staunch friend, rich and poor respect him 
equally. 

Wherever they go, he and his wife have the warmest 
welcome given them ; indeed, it would be hard to 
decide which is the greater favorite of the two — Jack or 
Robin. 

Besides being a wife, Robin is a mother now ; her 
eldest boy bears the much loved name of Christopher. 


ROBIN, 


299 


In him, Mr. Blunt seems to see again his son ; 
his greatest pride is to hear himself called ‘‘ Grand- 
father.’’ 

One spot in Upland Churchyard is always green and 
- gay with flowers, which Robin and her children bring. 
And when the little ones have lain their posies down, 
they play around, while she stands looking — where the 
sun’s last rays slant down — upon a plain white cross 
inscribed : 

To Christopher. 


THE END, 



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With its aid study is easy and memory retentive.”— \V. E. Sheldon, National Journal oj 
Education. 

“ No rapidly-growing infant or child can develop into intellectual or physical beauty 
without a sufficiency of Phos-phites.”— Prof. Percy. 

“1 can cordially recommend to this class of -people — icriters, teachers^ 
preachers, thinkers — Dr. F. Crosby’s Vitalized Fhos-phites — 
because I have tried them myself. Before I could conscientiously say any- 
thing about them I said to Dr. Crosby: ‘ 1 am suffering from overicork of the 
nerves; if the compound is fitted for anyone's case, it is for minef 

“ I have taken it, and feel that it has done me a decided benefit. I know 
I suffer from over -employment of the brain on my three Iknow 1 

least e away my nerve material. This compound is fitted to re-supply this 
waste — that is the reason it is useful. 

'‘It is especially usefulin indigestion. Debility, Sleeplessness, etc. Imy- 
self already feel the beneficial effects I ha ve derived. 

“ A. M. KELLOGG, 

“Editor of 2L Y. School Journal, Scholar's Companion, etc., etc., 21 
Park Place f 

F. CROSBY CO., 

664 & 666 SIXXH AVENUE, N. Y. 

For sale by Drusrs^i^ts; or by mail in !»• O. order, bill, or 

postas^e stamps, $i. 



GRAND, SQUARE km UPRIGff 

PIANOS. 


SOHMER & CO., 


MANUFACTURERS OF 


Sraijd, Sqiiar@ aiid Upriglit Pianos, 

149 to 165 EAST 14th ST.. N^W YORK. , 


Superior to all others in Tone, Durability and. Workmanship 
have the endorsement of the leading Artists. First Medal c 
Merit and Diploma of Honor at Centennial Exhibition. 

Musical authorities and critics prefer the SOHMER PIANOJ- 
and they are purchased by those possessing refined musical tast 
and appreciating the richest quality of tone and highest perfeetioi 
generally in a Piano. 


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